Was it the dish or the fork, was it the knife that ran away with the spoon? In the playful chaos of that fabled night, it’s hard to recall who danced with whom. The dish seemed like the natural partner, always steady and familiar, but perhaps it was the fork, with its sharp wit and polished edges, that charmed the spoon into a secret rendezvous. Or maybe it was the knife, bold and gleaming, who cut in at just the right moment, leading the spoon into a mischievous escape under the moonlit sky. Whichever it was, the night felt alive with mystery, and the clinking of silver echoed long after they disappeared into the stars.