Slow Break

*Breaking Slowly*

"I don't want Light Rye Sourdough."

"Why?"

"It's tough. Like chewing fingernails."

"Give it a break..."

I didn't expect them to tear the bread. I thought they were going to put it in the bowl, but they put it in a bowl instead. They wanted cereal, so they put in some milk.

"...what?", I didn't ask. I didn't want them to be disappointed, so I spread some tables of Weetbix with table spread. Then, I applied some peanut butter to the spread, but not the table, the tables. I placed them on their torn sourdough, hoping they would have something more, something more than soggy bread.

"That's gonna be dry", I didn't say, so when they didn't see, I put a pinch of unpinched milk in their bowl, an effort to deter them from pinching my coconut cream coffee.

They took a bite, and said it was bland. To my surprise, they peppered the peanut butter with ground black pepper, but it made them cough, which made me feel cold.

I didn't scold them. I mixed the contents in the bowl, and, unexpectedly, they told me it was not hot, not rough, but, rather, quite mild, gently bold.

Were they content? I'm not sure. They did eat breakfast, though, which made me feel mildly less discontented.