I have a little story in Feast of the Dead: Hors D'oeuvres, called "The Elephant."
This is how it starts:
"That was delicious, Temperance!"
This is Albert, my next door neighbor. He teaches remedial English at the community college. He's always saying things are delicious. I hear him over the fence in his backyard, playing catch with his eight-year-old. "Delicious toss, son!" On quiet nights, I imagine I can hear him on top of his wife: "Delicious, dear. Delicious."
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