In the crockery cupboard, I found two

small green ceramic bowls. I cracked a

single egg into each one, and whisked

energetically. There was salt to add,

and a few grains of powdered milk.

The resulting mix didn’t look like it’d

sustain a starving mouse. I didn’t know

how I was going to palm this off on

William. He’d be outraged. We had

bread. An airy white loaf that turned to

stodge when you chewed too hard.

I toyed with the idea of retrieving the

soup cans from the bin, but we weren’t

that hard up, at least not yet. Once it

was light, I’d go to the charity shop

and beg for a handout. That’d give us

three days of decent food. I didn’t dare

look too far ahead.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

144 thoughts on “Bread”

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