you sit at your crowded dinner table as gravy and other midwestern delicacies are passed through the hands of your family, eventually a small pan being tossed to you. all eyes turn to you expectantly, so you look down into the pan for answers.
the cornbread looks back.
"your eyes are pretty" you comment, gazing into its depths for a moment more before your mother yells for you to pass it on. your eyes fill with tears.
"no! no i wont let you take it away from me!" you cry, bolting from your seat and running upstairs in a panic. you hold the cornbread close to your chest, your tears splashing against its smooth, delicate crust.
you lock yourself in the bathroom and sit in the tub, sobbing into the pan for a long long time.
"t-they don't approve of our forbidden love-" you choke out, the cornbread sitting in quiet contemplation.
"i- i will never fit in! why even try?"
and then an idea hits you like a truck.
"...i don't have to fit in!" you realize. "we can just run away!"
