The potato peeler had lost its luster, and the two heaping plates had started to settle and maybe swell up a bit in my system. I had lost my momentum, and my plans for feasting all evening no longer seemed compelling. At first, I blamed Felix. Irene could easily have sent him over to scuttle my plans for a third plate. I imagined him shedding hair all over the food bar, and my stomach seized. I turned in my chair as though stretching casually between rounds of the meal, and there was Felix sitting two tables over, watching. He smiled and sent a small wave of good fellow feeling in my direction. I nodded and rotated back toward my plate. It seemed that Felix ate alone at the buffet, too, but I didn’t want him to conclude that we were birds of a feather or cut from the same cloth or some nonsense. I was perfectly content sitting alone and appreciating how far we as a species had come with regard to kitchen technology. Now Barbara was passing by for real. She’d been gone so long, I’d nearly forgotten about her. But I admired her unhurried elegance and the intricacy with which she had stacked the short ribs intertwined on her plate. No doubt about it, Barbara was good people and I silently wished her many more nights at the buffet.
The Wayne Literary Review: Escapism
17
