He used his fork to round-up and wrangle the rice to the edge of his plate, from where he shoveled and herded, again and again. On my plate, the rice was strewn from edge to edge, freely scattered and free of form, and I chased the rice from edge to edge without considering the fill of my fork.
A paradox it seems, that he be the herder and I the scatterer of rice pilaf among salmon.
Then there was pie... and the world was whole.
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