Yesterday’s Word Bohemia prompt…
“Ah, ma petite galette,” he coos to his breakfast. “L’oeuf on the top!”
He is rapt in food lust. He sees nothing. Not his fiancee scowling, tapping her emaciated toes, or the owner of the restaurant sizing them up and down, while a harried and humiliated waitress avoids all their eyes. So enthralled is he with his crepe and egg.
The trip to France was supposed to save the relationship. It is not saving his waistline, yet she remains whippet thin and disapproving no matter how many gelateries and confisieries he drags her to.
He takes one bite and gasps orgasmically. He resumes his tune to the galette. Next time he looks up, the bill is paid and he is alone at the table.