At the office, I worked.
Dinnertime came; I munched.
Dinnertime went, and I went to the office fridge for a snack.
As I walked past my boss’s door, he looked up. “How are you,” he asked with the sort of concern that can only be voiced by someone who’s seen you leave work after 11PM for a week.
“Hungry,” I replied.
He stared at me.
“Oh, fine,” I said. “Never mind the first answer.”
“Ok,” he agreed.