. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Sunday, March 23, 2008

She asked him, iv

.
“Are you hungry?”

“Um..I could eat.”

“What do you feel like?” She asked him, holding open the refrigerator door.

“Don’t know..what doowe have?”

“Let’s see. There’s a nice ham steak still sitting here. I can whisk up some Hollandaise sauce, make us some poached eggs and –“

“Naw. Had eggs this morning.”

“Oh. Okay. Well...how about...let’s see let’s – aha! How about something light. Une belle salade. Vinaigrette aux framboises. And I still have a hunk of French bread that –“

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t know. Just don’t feel like it, I guess.”

“Salmon? I have some in the freezer.”

“You’re the one who likes salmon, remember?”

“Soup?”

“What kind?”

“Cream of leek or chicken noodle.”

“Hmm...no. And no. Hey, where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Where to?”

“For supper. You’re on your own, babe.”

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