It was a late summers night. The air was thick and moist causing me to toss and turn all night.
I awoke feeling a bit peckish.
I slipped out of bed, wrapping the sheets around myself for modesty and creeped downstairs.
I found myself in the kitchen my eyes scanned the shelfs up and down before they lazily landed on the bag of bread.
"I mustn't" I thought to myself, bitting my lip. But temptation got the better of me and the next thing I know I'm gripping a slice of bread, it felt so soft in between my fingers.
I really shouldn't be doing this. Not now. Not after last time.
"Screw it" I breathed out a determined look taking over me.
But this alone wasn't enough -I needed more! I took the soft bread slice and slowly inserted it into the toaster and hastily pressed down with my finger on the handle to lower the bread deeper into the toaster.
My patience was starting to get the better of me waiting for the bread to harden and pop up.
I began preparing things for when it was ready.
Distracted and caught of guard it springs up I let out a hum in satisfaction. I take it in between my fingers once more and lay it down. It was dry. I got the butter out of the refrigerator, the cool air simulates my skin causing goastbumps to travel down my arms.
I lubricate the toast with a hefty amount of butter. Getting some on my fingers, I stick my fingers into my mouth to lick them clean, I pull them out slowly and proceed where I left off.
