Hi I'm the author and I'm enjoying some slightly stale aspendos bread for breakfast so I'm gonna write about it. Everything else in this story happened I shit you not. (sorry for typos I'm typing with one hand and eating with the other)
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Last night, y/n had aspendos but wasn't hungry enough to eat the bread. Usually, it was eaten straight away as it was obviously the most delicious thing on the plate. However, it was completely ignored. The only acknowledgment y/n gave it was a slight glance and a few seconds of thought as to weather they should eat it or not.
Y/n chose the latter.
The bread was not used to rejection. In fact, it had always been the one to eject itself out of every human's asshole....
Every asshole but y/n's.....
And now, the bread lay discarded in a dark kitchen. It knew it wouldn't be eaten. Everyone loved it when it was fresh, as soon as it became even a bit stale, it would be thrown away, never to see the light of day again. Never to fulfil it's duty: to be eaten.
It was 1am. It heard y/n laughing at a tiktok about a cat repeatedly slapping its head against a bed. The bread lay back, admiring the many pots and plants in the kitchen, and staring at the beautiful night sky. Just for a second, it thought that maybe being eaten wasn't the only option. Maybe, there was more to life.
It's thoughts were interrupted by the sirens of a police car. A purse was found covered in blood outside y/n's apartment. Their grandmother heard a ring at the door, and let a couple police in to be questioned.
Y/N was asleep. They slept through this whole ordeal, somehow. The bread found it beautiful, how humans could be so oblivious. It was always awake.
The police left, the grandmother woke y/n up and talked about some random cloth she had left over. They weren't listening, but just nodded and smiled for about 40 minutes of talk about cloth and the Italian flu for some reason.
The grandma left, it was just y/n and the bread. Alone in the house.
It was their choice now. They would decide the fate of the bread. Would y/n toss it to the garbage, without a single thought? Or would they eat the stale bread anyways, because they have no standards for food and would eat almost anything?
Y/N yawned, and climbed out of bed.
They grabbed their dressing gown.
They headed to the kitchen.
They opened the fridge. The bread sighed. It was on the table. Of course they were gonna eat the left over fruit salad.
Y/N looked at the fruit salad.
It was brown and unappetising.
They slowly turned.
They looked at the bread.
The fridge door closed.
And then
They took the bread
Back to their filthy pigsty of a room
And they ate it.
The bread felt safe. It felt warm. Finally, it was its turn to sleep. It closed its eyes, And then it was engulfed in blackness.
Y/N thought the bread was ok-ish.
