Black Toast

Windows, we see them everyday. Glancing at them as we hurry by. Not noticing the chips in the glass or the cracks in the framework. The little signs that tell us somethings not right. The garden gate is open. A cluster of heavy looking cardboard boxes sit on the soaking grass, The car window has been smashed. Regret and loss seem to squeeze through the boarded up windows and flood onto the overgrown grass. Something happened here.

Looking back now it all seemed to have happened so quickly, the destruction of my entire world in a few short weeks. 

It had started when my sister died. 

We found out a day later. I was sitting at the table, it was a crisp clear day, no clouds. Coffee simmered and boiled on the tiny stove, toast burnt in the old red toaster. Water splashed and sprayed in the bathroom upstairs. My dad entered carrying a bunch of letters in his right hand, and a parcel in his left. He put the parcel down first placing it carefully between the ash tray and the fruit bowl.

It was the first letter he opened. Tearing the clean white paper with his thumb, pulling out the letter inside and carefully unfolding it. I can remember it perfectly. How he seemed to crumple, it was like he had aged 10 years in those few short minutes. My mum turned around My Dad knelt on the floor water pouring from his red eyes. Smearing his pained features. 

"Tom?" Mum said worry and caution filling her face. My dad made no reply, but pointed at the letter. My mum walked to the table, but I got there first. I read it. 

No, that was all I could feel or think. No, this was not real. I began to shake my head franticly. No.

The coffee climbed over and exploded from the pot. The toast bellowed as it turned black. The shower above me thundered.

No.

My mother snatched the letter. Spliting my skin as she did so. Crimson ran from my hand as my mum screamed. Mascara running with the tears. Black and red.

Black toast, red blood.

I sat motionless. My brother pounded downstairs and began to shout hysterically.  He picked up the letter and read. All the happiness fell from him like the blood from my hand 

 

 

The End

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