I don’t want to spoil any of this story. The narrator has an eating disorder and is looking for help with it, and then it gets absolutely wild. The narrator’s voice is so distinct and foreboding:

Pizza, every kind: floppy New Yorks and Chicago casseroles and California thin crusts and midwestern squares with cured pork toppings and healthy mozzarella pulls.

If she wasn’t already dead, along with the rest of my family, I’d trade my grandma for any of the above.