I snacked with a lady and a gentleman.
Table covered with a white sheet that overlapped onto their hardwood floor, going with the antique paintings and swords.
I could sense no feeling.
I had to forget theses were not my friends; they could overcome my presence knowing they had blundered with their life, always secure with their food of divinity yet their bed was split with a cleaver.
Basted, golden with syrup; wine was squeezed personally and was candy; glass was diamond, reflecting a rainbow onto the linen.
I had lunch with a lady and a gentleman, and all I could do was slurp my soup.