We existed far before humans came to be, and as unfortunate as it may be, we’ll be here long after they’ll be gone.

Make no mistakes, we have no admiration of any sort and even less empathy towards these creatures, no more than what a hungry snake feels towards the mouse dropped in its enclosure. Humans are our main source of sustenance, being the most sentient and emotionally complex creatures on this world, living long enough for their emotions to become a burden in the long run; emotions that are complex enough to give them a certain unique flavor that turned humans into our preferred meal of choice.

We still are willing to patiently wait for the next species of primates to make that evolutionary leap, even if it takes another few millennia. We’ve got time, and we’ve heard they’re already learning how to use tools.

As the human population grew, we could no longer just sink our teeth into their mental form without anyone noticing. While some of us favor the meaty, smoky taste of hysteria, having humans too aware of our presence isn’t good, either. When there are only a few humans around the world that claim that they are haunted by demons that play with their emotions like a child plays with the food on their plate, each claim is too far from the other for a connection to be established. They would simply be written off as insane and end up being ignored, or at worst case – get stuffed with mind-numbing drugs. Talk about spoiling your food.

But with technological advancements making it easier to diminish the distance barrier and allowing for more instances to be picked up by general public, the potential for raised awareness for our existence reminds us that this pack of bald monkeys have built weapons that may not be able to kill us but might force us to retreat. We’re not built for fighting large groups of enemies, not for long.

We’d rather stick to the shadows. Watching from the sideline, through the thicket, just around the corner of a corridor crossing an abandoned building; a white pair of eyes glowing like a moon in starless skies or the faceless figure one sees right before turning on the lights, disappearing just as soon as the switch flicks on.

You probably don’t know that we still walk among you. Maybe we’ve exchanged some pleasantries before.

***

There is a sort of delight that’s bordering a patronizing feeling when meeting humans in this social activity they call a ‘date’. We always know which one of them is pretending and which truly allow themselves to be vulnerable. The taste that radiates from them just, as they say, ‘hits different’.

The young man sitting across the table from us is doing a decent job forging his day-to-day mask of cool headedness, radiating a stale, unseasoned flavor, accompanied by a gamy feeling of something that had long expired. He was playing with the food on his plate, shifting it around from the center to the rim and back, and when finally lifting his fork to get a bite the chewing motion looked theatrically exaggerated. His eye twitched and the most subtle wince went through his face and jaw, a near invisible display of disgust. He was well versed in pretending.

Time to see just how much. “Is everything alright?” He’s not the only one who knows how to feign emotions. We have long learned to pretend how to convincingly display feeling, mostly empathy – the little tilt of the head and the eyebrows arching up ever so slightly. Some humans crumble at the caring display, and he was one of them.

We could sense the relief coming off him as he coughed at the sudden question, using it as an excuse to spit the food in his mouth into a napkin, quickly folding it to be polite. His eyes darted at first, side to side, as his mouth moved like a fish flapping about on dry land, desperately trying to take in the last bits of oxygen through its drying gills, as dry as his mouth must’ve turned – in a similar manner to how the fish carcass on my own plate has ended its life.

The young man mumbled something about not being hungry – lies taste like fear, bitter and burnt – and with considerable effort he looked back up, jaws set as he was trying to ward off the feeling of nausea clawing up his stomach at the mere presence of the food he had ordered, bravely grabbing the fork to give the impression, and maybe convince himself, that he’ll take another bite when his appetite reignites.

This is where our meal truly starts. The cooked fish, as pungent as it is, doesn’t really carry taste over to our inexperienced tongue, as does all human food. It was the young man’s dread and building panic at the thought that someone – or something – might see through his mask, that filled our mouth with a rich taste that was felt even past the poor human’s stale malnourishment, mixed with an acidic tartness, almost like bile, that emanated from the envy he surely felt while seeing the person in front of him eating and even enjoying some food without having to fight it down. Little did he know that the enjoyment was from his own feeling rather than from the plated food he desired so much.

We ceased the torturous teasing, lest he’d leave under the impression that we’re being rude, even if there was continuous pleasure in the presence of this unique flavor, like a sour plum put in a smoker and served with dark, leafy greens, all without any of it touching our tongue or even existing anywhere within reach of us. Not physically.

The sickly human started looking more and more fatigued as he tried to shift the conversation away from himself and to any other subject, from recent weather to pondering whether the decorative plants in the café are real or not. But we like to dig into what hurts most, asking difficult question to provoke as intense of an emotion with as diverse flavors as we can draw out, with every mix of emotions carrying a taste that more often than not is impossible to recreate, so we must savor each one.

Once we were no longer listening and only pretended to be attentive, a shaky sigh signified the human’s emotional defeat. He looked like he was about to collapse, body and soul. Deciding that it’ll do for the time being, and that we were feeling quite full as well, we offered to pay the bill as he helped him up to wobbling feet, escorting him to a vacant taxi. We wanted him to feel as though it was a kind, selfless gesture, while in reality the physical touch allowed us to siphon just a little more energy to go, allowing ourselves to greedily indulge, just enough so the human won’t drop completely.

We watched the yellow car drive away and disappear behind a turn before looking around once again. We weren’t particularly hungry anymore, but cafes like that are always a versatile hunting ground – or a ‘buffet’, if you will.

We were full, but there was always a lingering taste, a craving for more.