What must it be like to be one of these fragile birds who leaves food on his plate after a meal? Who doesn’t take twice or thrice as many hors d’oevres as is appropriate?
Whose mind doesn’t churn with brunch calculus, eyeing the plate of the girl puffing her cheeks out in the universal sign for “full.”
"Well if you’re just going to throw it away…"
To approach a meal like a 21st-Century human rather than a starving hyena who may not see food again for weeks, snorfling away as though the turkey burger might be torn from one’s jaws by a rival male.
To not be the first one done. To feel full before it’s uncomfortable.
"Wow, you really went to town on those wings."
All 20-somethings sound half asleep.