The soup came. The two of them dug in. “Oh, it’s fabulous,” Civille said and cast her eyes heavenward. She handed me her spoon. “Taste it.” Heylmun and Civille both ate with small, quick bites, and as they ate they talked, interrupting each other like old friends, jumping from topic to topic. They were very funny and talked very quickly. But the talking never overwhelmed the eating. The opposite was true: they seemed to talk only to heighten their anticipation of the next bite, and when the next bite came, their faces took on a look of utter absorption. Heylmun and Civille don’t just taste
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