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  • Noelle Bryggman


The sun glistens through the kitchen window

Slowly blinding me as I prepare breakfast

Steam escapes the teapot with a sharp screech

As I sit at the table I cannot help but hear the neverending drops of water

Flowing from the faucet

The loud bang of the refrigerator door being opened and closed

A sharp knife scratching at the bottom of the plate

And even the sound of burnt toast being buttered with a dull knife

The cold metal of the knife scrapes at the container of unmelted butter

I take a bite of the toast

Butter dripping down my hand

Blackened bread crumbs descend from my mouth

I hurry to leave and start my day

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