T before P
Close to the end of the evening, Peter began to sense a strange tension forming. Hector and Maria had been the most gracious hosts, offering a tasting menu of all sorts of soups. It was another one of Maria’s unique ideas - elevating soup to be the star of the evening. Gazpacho, Wedding Soup, vichyssoise, an original concoction she called Friendship Water, for which she refused to give up the recipe but he was sure contained cayenne pepper and green tea. And in between, palette cleansers of melon, grapes, cucumber - all of which were hand selected as Hector pointed out, to be the perfect flavor pairing to finish the prior soup. None of which actually were, but Peter was not the type to complain. The three of them had a lovely time eating soup and playing board games. However, in the last 30 minutes something subtle had shifted. His every move seemed under scrutiny, eliciting the strangest of responses, almost as if he were on exhibit. Peter couldn’t pinpoint a specific problem, just subtle clues - lIke when he stood up to stretch, head reaching towards the ceiling and upon looking back down noticed both of them quickly avert their gaze in unison. Or Hector demonstrably laughing too much at Peter’s jokes, repeatedly slapping him in the stomach saying “that’s a good one.” At yet another point, when Peter had politely refused another refill of her hand-squeezed, rose water lemonade, saying he couldn't possibly drink any more, instead of typical acceptance or even mild disappointment, Maria looked almost excited.
Peter strategically looked at his watch a bit earlier than he might otherwise and announced it was time to go. Hector and Maria expressed sadness that walked a strange line between what is typical when friends part after a particularly great day and that of a scientist who just realized the monkey had died. He picked up his bag, gave everyone a genuine hug, hoping to dispel this strange vibe of examination, and walked out the door.
Reaching his car on the street, Peter looked back up the external staircase he had just walked down and thought to himself “that was some weird body snatchers stuff.”
Inside the apartment Hector and Maria stared at each other silently for a minute solid, as if they were co-processing large amounts of data telepathically. Hector finally broke away, turned the lock on the door, and said to Maria "you’re right. He never uses our bathroom.”
