8.11

Which taste is sweetest, the first, or the last? The first is layered with anticipation, its subtle zippered tang hanging in the air long before you make your way from plate to mouth with treacherous fork, but the last--ah, the last taste. You and your friends have talked so long that the food has gone cold, and the last bite sits off-center to the plate. Your fork makes its pleasant scraping sound as it bulldozes all remnants into a final pile and you lift it, confident now, to your mouth. You would regret a drink of water or a toothbrush because they would do away with the lingering feeling of satisfaction in your mouth. There is too much said of anticipation and so little of contentment. Perhaps it is because contentment does not scream, does not lift its voice, does not advertise. Contentment merely lasts, ignominiously, for as long as it takes.