He says aren’t you full? but right now I can’t explain how I am and am not full, and how I love to sit across from him eating with our forks and hands: picking things up and gulping them down.
He says, stop looking at me like that, and I say, like what? but I know exactly what because I’ve been staring at the soft white skin in the divot of his collarbone with the look I had when the waiter brought us our steak and he says, you can’t look at me, it’s inappropriate, so I close my eyes.
Punchy
Ha!