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.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.