Eating An Apple In Class

First my teeth delve into the juicy depths with the smirking sounds of a foot stepping unexpectedly into a patch of mud, and then with a crispy pop! a chunk of the apple disappears into my mouth, where it is further disfigured by barely heard mastications like distant dinosaurs tramping through imagined forests. The teacher continues and a student raises her hand, both with an air of awareness of foreign, corporeal sounds invading their delicately atmospheric brainwaves. If the cidery juices didn’t flow down my esophagus like tears of joy, I might be concerned about the intrusiveness of my noises.