They ate pancakes, drenched in corn syrup. It’s pretty much the same, someone said. But it wasn’t. The liquid pooled thick against the edge of the plate. Sticky. They dipped their fingers and then pulled them up, watching the golden brown liquid form fat pools and then drop back to the rest.
A housefly landed on the butter. Shoo that away, someone said.
They watched it flap its wings and saw one leg over the other.
The milk carton was empty, and one looked across at the other’s full glass, somehow hoping they could knock it over with their thoughts.