Cracking the egg on the side of the pan it broke open completely and deposited both white and yolk onto the surface of the gas cooker. A thing to clean up later, to remove the egg from under the gridiron and the gas jets. This is a job for later on this morning. Now take the fresh coffee and the eggs on toast upstairs to the upper rooms, the personal refuge from the sordid mess that is the family. It took years to take this step, dishonourable as it is, the step back from disaster and an assessment of what is to be saved.
Remember that friends will only see things through the lens formed by their own lives, and their lives are all different.
The eggs taste strange, perhaps they have been around too long. The wife had given instructions that they were to be consumed first, perhaps they were cheaper and perhaps they are reaching the end of their shelf lives.
The kitchen is a disaster, the son was cooking stuff during the night.
He is a grown young man now, and he is to clean up all his own mess.
That tinnitus' white noise in the right hand side of the head, a steady sound like a gas jet or the air escaping from a defective tyre.
The clock is ticking on the wall, that old German clock from the fifties, and it is marking time well.
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