whipped cream

she carefully scraped the edges of the stainless steel bowl with the long handled silver spoon, collecting every last delicious splatter of whipped cream.  she licked the spoon between turns around the inside of the bowl.  she savored every molecule.  she closed her eyes.  she licked her teeth.  nothing ever tasted so genuine. so true. so believable as this cream.  nothing added but air from a hand-held electric whisk.  it had been so long.  there had been nothing like it there.  it had been years since she tasted real cream.  there was no room for cows on the space station.