Crumbs and flakes of crust linger in the cupped hand. So many shavings offer no future but the past gesture redone. Her glance pauses over flakes of crust and crumb. He readies himself redefining the shadows. Their proximity is sweet and salt. She held the wheel. He could recall the change in grip. As sweet is to tip, back is to bitter. For salad, the greens kiss the raspberry that dressing drizzled. She drank chocolate. The slosh of bitter burned the sugar to an aftertaste. He had seen the jaw react in that space in the intersection of cheek bone, temple and eye corner. This he had connected to a tightening. After a time the tip again came.