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She launched into a mimed imitation of me, instantly recognizable — all of my good friends would have laughed out loud to see it — this look of focused, “very earnest concentration” that struck her as “scholarly.”

“Oh, is there spinach in the garden enchiladas?” he asks rhetorically. “I’ll have to check.” He leaves my table. I see him grab a menu and look up the garden enchiladas, and I watch as a funny reaction crosses his face as he reads the first words of the description: “Spinach-filled…”