Tom is sitting at the dinner table, making direct eye contact with whoever is talking to him… and then he sees it. He catches a glimpse of the potato out of the corner of his eye and try as he might, he can’t stop glancing back at it. It’s like it’s calling to him: eat me Tom, eat me. He continues to nod along with the conversation, laughing at the appropriate intervals but he can’t stop going back to the potato. He looks around at the others, seeing if any are about to swoop in and take it. He starts sweating. Should he just take it? His hand twitches. Tom? Oh no, they asked him a question. He swallows, his eyes dart to the potato. Someone is reaching for it. He dives on to the table on instinct, claiming the potato as his own. He looks up to the shocked stares of onlookers. He clears his throat and sits back in his seat. He feels embarrassed and he can’t even stand to look at anyone in the eye now, but the potato is his.