Breakfast at Epiphanies

Flash Fiction

The brown ring on the edge of the bagel reminded Deborah of the eyes of a cat she once had, a cat who met his demise in the hinges of a malfunctioning automatic garage door.

She wanted to repeat her request that she toast her own bagels, but decided she would write a note instead, as being personally ignored was far more annoying. 

Deborah frowned and fidgeted, double and triple dipped the crunchy chunks in the soft butter on the table.

Don scrolled his phone, drummed his fingers.

Deborah smiled down at her Siamese.