Gormandize

She feeds off the tones and timbres she knows so well. They fill her to greater satisfaction than all the delicacies she treats herself to, all the tangible distractions that cannot satisfy her elusive hunger. She grasps the phone like a starving man would a fork, just before lunging across the table for thirds. But this table is an ocean, and this is not the meal. Just a snack, a taste to tide her over. The feast will come in time, but never soon enough.