Photo Source (via VisDare-58)
Food For Thought
Watching and waiting. Bored now, at the end, ignored and unseen. They haven’t even filled my glass. The table stretches away from me, each seat occupied by an adult body, dressed to the nines. It strikes me as funny in the circumstances; the suits for fine dining; necklaces and rings for the women. Their heads are down; forks in hand, as they trough. Mouths filled, time and again. Again. No time for talk; food the only fuel for the evening. The movements are mechanical, as they shovel it down; picking up the pace. Where once they took care; morsels concealed behind clamped teeth, now remnants escape. Liquid dribbled down chins, no napkin to take care of it. Table manners disregarded; forgotten. Mine are much better and I haven’t even got a plate to demonstrate. Their worship continues. I wonder when they will realise they can’t seem to stop. If, even.
This week's word prompt was "ennui".