A bite to eat

He brushed the drop of sweat from the tip of his nose just in time. Imagine if it had fallen into the soup – it would ruin everything. Even one molecule of salt too many, and he’d taste it. He wouldn’t have the meal ruined, or any subsequent ones – he was thrilled to see that there was plenty of soup for freezing, too.
The oven pinged conscientiously, and he twirled balletically to rescue the pie. Cradling it on wire rack, he experimentally touched the sides of the earthenware casserole dish. Nicely cool – he decanted the contents into a series of Tupperware lunchboxes and wrote finicky labels.
His cooking frenzy was almost over. This lot would keep him going for weeks, and every mouthful would stave off his mind-searing loneliness. He smiled as he basted the gawping head. It was lovely to have a friend for dinner once in a while.