A Clean, Well-Lit Cereal Bowl

The woman was eating breakfast. She was sitting at a table, eating. Breakfast was a bowl of cereal. Cornflakes. The man watched her eating from the door. He stood there. She ate. He watched. Sunlight was streaming in from the window. He could see what she was eating. He could see it, very clearly. Her watched her eating. She knew she was watching, but she ate anyway. The cornflakes crunched when she ate them. The noise was loud, but she didn’t seem to care. The woman ate and the man watched. This went on for a while. Then the bowl was empty.

“Mind if I join you?” said the man.

“Why would I?” said the woman.

“I don’t know,” he said, “You tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, she said. “I don’t mind. Sit down.”

The man sat down.

“Have some breakfast,” said the woman. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“I’m not hungry,” said the man.

“Suit yourself,” she said.

The man and the woman sat there. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then the man frowned. He stood up suddenly. The man thrust his fingers inside the cereal box and rooted around, searching for something. The he snarled and threw the box on the table. Cornflakes scattered. The woman didn’t jump. She stared straight ahead of her and didn’t even blink.

“Where’s my prize?” said the man.

“Huh?” said the woman.

“The prize,” he said. “There’s supposed to be a prize inside. It says so on the box.”

“I don’t know nothing about that,” she said.

“Oh you don’t, huh?”

“No, I don’t.”

The Felix the Cat clock was ticking on the wall by the door in the kitchen. Tick-tock. The plastic cat kept looking right and left. The plastic cat was smiling. Nobody else was.