Both Eric and Victoria worked for established pizza places directly across the avenue from one another. Their bosses sent each of them to the other’s store to spy, basically. They wanted to know, was the other place busy? Was a slice still twenty-five cents? Was the lemon ice too lemony? Every time Victoria crossed the threshold of the pizza parlor where Eric worked, he’d make a big show of it. Clutching his chest, he’d belt out “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie…that’s amoré!” In hindsight, it would have been smarter for Eric to tone it down a bit, especially, once he became aware of the unpleasant truth that he did indeed find Victoria irresistible. It was her unflappable cool that got under his skin. When Eric crossed the avenue to spy for his boss, knowing that he would soon see Victoria, and would have to answer her coy question “can I help you?” his heart bled a little more. Of course, Eric would never eat her slices, which would, in his mind, be an act of disloyalty. Victoria knew that. It seemed to Eric that for the rest of his life he was doomed to rip his guts out at least three to four times a week. By focusing on Victoria’s ample overbite, Eric eventually talked himself out of love and his wound healed.