eachatetwo,saveverycrumb.

    Itwasnouse.Uponthishungerofours,asvastandboundlessastheSinaiPeninsula,thebuttercookiesandbeerleftnotatrace.

    Timeoozedthroughthedarklikealeadweightinafishsgut.Ireadtheprintonthealuminumbeers.Istaredatmywatch.Ilookedattherefrigeratordoor.Iturhepagesofyesterdayspaper.Iusedtheedgeofapostcardtoscrapetogetherthecookiecrumbsoabletop.

    "Iveneverbeenthishungryinmywholelife,"shesaid."Iwonderifithasanythingtodowithbeingmarried."

    "Maybe,"Isaid."Ormaybenot."

    Whileshehuntedformmentsoffood,Ileanedovertheedgeofmyboatandlookeddownatthepeakoftheuervolo.Theclarityoftheowaterallarougavemealedfeeling,asifaholloenedsomewherebehindmysolarplexus--ahermeticallysealedcavernthathadherentranorexit.Somethingaboutthisweirdsenseofabsehisseheexistentialrealityofence--resembledtheparalyzingfearyoumightfeelwhenyouclimbtotheverytopofahighsteeple.Thisebetweenhungerandacrophobiawasanewdiscoveryforme.

    WhichiswhenitoccurredtomethatIhadoncebeforehadthissamekindofexperience.Mystomachhadbeenjustasemptythen...When?...Oh,sure,thatwas--

    "Thetimeofthebakeryattack,"Iheardmyselfsaying.

    "Thebakeryattack?Whatareyoutalkingabout?"

    Andsoitstarted.

    "Ioackedabakery.Longtimeago.Notabigbakery.Notfamous.Thebreadwasnothingspecial.Notbad,either.Ohoseordinarylittleneighborhoodbakeriesrightinthemiddleofablockofshops.Someoldguyranitwhodideverythinghimself.Bakedinthem,andwhenhesold