then asked about the sauce.
I admitted it came from a jar.
She looked at me as though I had told her I taught history by showing advertisements for theme parks.
“That bad?”
“No,” she said. “But now I have questions.”
We argued cheerfully about recipes. I preferred knowing what I needed before beginning; she liked discovering what a meal wanted while making it. Neither approach sounded especially objectionable until we described the other’s, which became increasingly absurd.
Then she stopped at a pottery stall.
The table held glazed bowls,
