The Slow-Cooked Sentence


Rachael Conlin Levy
Woosh” courtesy of Rowan Atkinson.

It was morning and the hip hop blasting from the tan Buick’s trunk was cheery as a bowl of sugar cereal:

Thump! Thump! KaShhhh! Clink!
Thump! Thump! (Box on counter)
(Milk poured)
Clink! (Spoon hits side of bowl)

The Buick yawned and the man reached deep into the trunk’s recesses to futz with the woofers or something. Music shook the windows of the sleepy house next door and a yellow school bus turned onto the street. Leaves as crunchy and brown as Frosted Flakes danced in its wake.

One response to “Breakfast”

  1. Hey Rachael! Thought I'd check out your blog as you'd checked out mine! I like it, nice one!

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