Starlight and Red Salt

Coming indoors as night settled over Chicago, I brought a single fiery tortilla chip to the dark coffee table by the window. Outside, the sky was completely clear, pinpricked with distant stars. Resting on my knees beside an upturned clear glass tumbler, I placed the pointed red chip onto its smooth base. With gentle, steady fingertips, I tapped the brittle spiced edge against the glass, letting out soft, dry clicks that echoed like miniature staccato beats into the quiet room. Then I broke a tiny triangular corner off. The crisp crunch dissolved in a burst of smoky chili and heat, bold and warm against the stillness of the dark evening.