Pittsburgh Blue

He liked his steaks burnt on the outside, raw on the inside. They called it Pittsburgh Blue. That's what he said. Crunchy and black and soft and bloody. He supposed it was the best of both worlds. A shell, keeping safe what was inside. He felt powerful, he imagined, consuming in essence himself. Thrown into the fire, however briefly, filled with all the life he had to give, but wiser. He was raw on the inside, he knew he was. But outside, outside he had been through hell.