Her eyes were half closed like a calm cat waiting for a mouse or bird to appear and excite it. The cabin was warm. Our soup bowls were nearly touching on the small wooden table. The long morning of love had made us hungry. I slurped from my spoon. "I love the way you eat soup". Her voice was slow, deliberate, soft. I didn`t know what she meant but I took it as being a nice thing.
I looked at her and said "Thanks, I guess". She smiled her sunny smile at me. "And I love the way you eat me". There was a pause. We both smiled now. And, together, we dipped our spoons in our nearly touching bowls and carried on eating.
