cheerios

A thousand small holes trapped in a box. I stare at them, my mouth watering. I imagine the sweet honey flavor bursting in my mouth. Looking side to side, I stealthily extend my arm to the top counter. The sight of this crispy sugar, oh lord. I tilt the box down toward my cup and admire how the small cheerios crumble at my demand. My eyes tear up in joy. That magical sound of delicious bites have me racing up the wall.

I turn to the milk and remark at how much I’ve taken it for granted. This fresh, fresh milk fresh from the cows that graze that fresh grass. The white waterfall drowning my little O’s is too much to bear. I steal a spoon by the sink and squirm in impatience as I take my first munch.

The coolness of milk. The nectar of grain. Goodness. What a time to be alive.


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