8:43pm, I find myself in the kitchen. Cheese laid neatly on the counter, knife in hand, ready to commence my guilty pleasure.
Furthermore a slight, soothing sound emerges from the shallow, vain, loneliness that appears to be my surrounds.
Was it fear perhaps?
Would I slice my cheese not just right?
Will I cut it out to be too large?
I’m not craving or hungry enough for big piece, am I?
Logic didn’t matter anymore. I was still hungry and thriving for something new to endure from.
I slice the cheese slow and deeply,
it feels soft and fresh.
The bittersweet urge for more begins tarnishing my insides, one limb at a time, making me shake and shiver with excitement.
‘Just one more delicious slice.’
I convinced myself, just to satisfy my lifeless train of thought.
Now, I am finished for this peaceful evening. Only tomorrow will determine how much divine cheese my thirsty little mouse will be pleading for.