Sandwitches

The other day The Man and I were in town, and we were hungry, so stopped at a coffee shop and had sandwiches. (Sandwitches, actually, according to the menu.) They weren't great sandwiches, but they filled a gap. The Man read a newspaper while he was eating, and I read a book, as is our antisocial custom, and we chewed peacefully.

When I got to my last mouthful, I looked up and noticed that The Man was eating his last mouthful as well. We both swallowed at the same moment.

We stared at each other.

"Synchronized sandwich eating," I said. "How do you think we did on technical merit?"

"You've got a crumb on your chin," he replied. "You'll lose points for that. But don't worry. You do great on artistic impression."

We grinned at each other.

"We've been together too long," I said.

I wiped the crumb off my chin, and we agreed that we eat well together, but our conversations are getting sillier.