Cornflakes in May. By CpSingleton © 2017
Steven could hear the crunch-crunch of the cornflakes being mulched by his teeth.
It brought with it memories of childhood. He hadn’t eaten them since those gentler days.
Where have I got cornflakes from, he thought with a “huff.”
His eyes were shut. Body relaxed. He was on the precipice of consciousness. Though, eating cornflakes.
As the sleep fought the final skirmishes in his brain, and pain returned to worn joints, he realised he was merely crunching his teeth against one another. His stomach grumbled with echoing emptiness.
There were no cornflakes in his mouth. No morning toast aroma inflating his nostrils.
There was the damp of old asbestos to welcome in the new day. There was a brain-bulging mix of rat shit and piss to gag the throat. There were the memories to cling to, of a finer time, when May was just a nightmare thought and help didn’t hold a dagger.
He tried to shuffle as a new rat came to nibble on his toes.
Then he thought, why fucking bother. At least one of us will eat.