Hot and Cold Breakfast

It all started with a tiny spark.

“So,” she asked coolly over the steam from her coffee, “how was the party last night?”

Admittedly, I was not in the best frame of mind. Things had sort of dragged on until somewhere past one in the morning. Playing designated driver meant my circuitous route home took longer than it should have. I was distracted to say the least.

My cereal tumbled into the bowel with grating loudness, “It was a hoot. We all tried on these tights…or leggings or something, really atrocious things. Pretty funny stuff, and T.W. said I have lovely feet.”

The coffee gradually cooled. She simmered quietly amidst tentative sips. Me, I just ate my Captain Crunch and tried not to think. Thinking was painful and ridiculously slow. The maze and hidden picture game on the back of the box was about as far as my mind could go. I think I got the word scramble wrong.

I got a lot of things wrong.

“So,” she said warmly over the cold remains of her dark brew, “she said you have lovely feet?”

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