Zest Lit Issue 2, October 2013 - Page 178

change from her usual Marinara sauce to Alfredo. I kept watching. She was counting how many times she had chewed each individual fork full. Thirty-four, isn’t that how many times you’re suppose to chew a bite? Thirty-four to insure regular digestion. But now how big should the bite be? So would it be sixty-eight for large ones and only seventeen for the small? And what about mouth size? That must play some role in the whole scheme of things.

Frannie had the perfect mouth, with a smile for every mood. A seductive half raise to her upper lip, a tranquil at peace smile with her lips relaxed and only slightly spread, and her biggest one, my favorite. Her lips tight from the pull, warm cheeks, her white teeth exposed showing the minor snaggle from her left canine. It didn’t bother me. I only focused on it because it was a distinct characteristic. It made her my Fran. I beamed within, just at the thought of her brilliantly smiling with her glossed lips.

Cindy’s eye caught mine at my expression. Conversation would mask my light outburst of delight.

‘How’s your spaghetti?’

She looked surprised that I had spoken at all. It was common nowadays to share a completely silent meal, even when in the presence of company. We hardly directed a question or comment towards each other.

‘Fine. How’s your food?’

‘Fine.’ I had barely touched my plate. I glanced down to check what I had even ordered. Lasagna. Neither of us actually cared what the other ordered or if the meal was exciting our taste buds. It was mandatory; however, to answer your wife at dinner if she posed a