Slippage

The toaster dinged as the two pieces of burnt toast jumped from their slots. “Christ almighty, couldn’t you at least have popped them out before they burned?” I complained.

He simply sat there in all of his silence. The lack of a response only made me angrier.

“All you do is sit around the house anymore. The least you could do is not let my fucking toast get ruined.”

He remained quiet.

“I don’t mean to so get angry.”

Still, he said nothing.

“It’s not the same since you left and we know it, too,” I screamed at my shadow.

Advertisements