“You’re not even eating,” he answered. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“It’s not that I’m not hungry, I’m simply tired of eating. I may never eat again. It’s simply a chore to be gotten through several times a day.”
He looked at her and suppressed a laugh, but wondered if she were serious. Lately she’d eaten less, but not to any extreme.
“Aren’t you going to have dinner?”
“I’m tired of eating,” she said again. “Wouldn’t it be nice to simply not have to eat? Not have to go through the process of sitting down and putting food in your mouth, chewing and everything else involved with eating? Why can’t all the great geniuses who think they can figure everything out figure a way that one simply wouldn’t have to eat in order to survive?”
He looked at her…
“The pleasure of eating, enjoying great food is one of the joys of the world,” he responded enthusiastically. To him the culinary experience was something that sustained him, not only physically, but gastronomically. It was one of his passions in life and he found it hard to believe that anyone would consider eating a chore.
“For you, but for me it just means putting food in my body.”
They’d been making dinner together, sharing the time as they prepared the food and cooked it and now that it was finished cooking and the aroma of their feast wafted through their apartment he was sure she’d change her mind.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked as he placed their plates on the table and held her chair for her to sit.
She looked at him and then at the food.
He watched as she devoured three helpings.