I ripped open the box, already tasting the first bite in my mind, and then everything stopped. My stomach dropped almost instantly. This was not the pizza I thought I had ordered. Instead of the familiar, comforting sight of melted cheese and evenly scattered toppings, there were huge, swollen shapes rising from the surface. They bulged through the cheese like something trying to escape, glossy and stretched tight, almost as if they had a life of their own. For a brief, uneasy moment, my brain jumped straight to the worst possibilities. Was this safe to eat? Had something gone wrong in the kitchen? Was it contaminated somehow? I leaned in closer, zooming in with my phone, poking at one of the strange domes with hesitation, as if it might react. Suddenly, something as simple as pizza felt uncertain, almost threatening, and I found myself doubting everything sitting on my plate.
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