James doesn’t like bananas but he eats one every day. This is one of the first things I learn about him. He also has weak knees and an allergy to penicillin. I find the bananas the most perplexing, but he says something about the texture: how the texture is interrupted by slicing and exaggerated by, say, mashing. I think it might also be a sort of sadism, but I don’t say it. Instead we go back to bananas again and again until one day he says, “Even monkeys don’t like the stringy bits.” We don’t talk about bananas after that.
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