My bony fingers morphed into agents of my ravenous emotions, transferring lust to the tips of my being awakening deadened nerves I reached into the bag ripping apart the dark and chewy pumpernickel then smeared the risen creation into the butter painting each chunk richly with soft yielding yellow. Steam rising from the soup urn cried out to be eaten. Before the ladle could serve it’s cupped treasure my other hand plunged slathered bread deeply into the foggy green pea soup all the way to the...