I stroll gently down the stairs. The cold air against face. Its 4:57am and I am hungry for a fulfilling warmth. A companionship of both pleasure, and sustenance. I stretch out my body towards the cabinet. My toes tipped and my arm extended like a posh dancer. Bringing cabinet open I see the beauty within. Plain h'white bread. Gently grasping the contained loaf. I carry it from its lonely dark home. And lay its soft body on the counter. Opening the bread I pull out 2 slices. Its even more beautiful than I anticipated. Lay there on the counter 2 bread slices baked by the gods themselves. Thick enough to compress and be fulfilling. But thin enough to not overwhelm. The light dusting of flour on the crust bringing attention to the centre. The bread that was cooked to pinpoint timing. I grab my ingredients that I will not name for they come no where near close to the importance of the bread. Its ready. Lifting it to my lips I wrap my lips around the bread. My force compressing the soft bread. Softer than any pillow. Tastier than any cake. More spectacular than the reddest sunset. I am whole.
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Penana
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