Yvonne

It’d been a bit. Couple days maybe. It had been a bit.

Rising from her bed, she sat at her desk. Didn’t take long for her to stand up from there too.

Bread, peanut butter. She liked it warm, just before it melted.

Downstairs, to the microwave.

The whirr of the microwave began, a sound familiar to Yvonne. Some days, that’d be all she heard. A faint whirr.

She opened up the microwave. 15 seconds left on the machine.

Stop.

Back upstairs, she’d left the door open. Wouldn’t matter, nobody was going to go into it. And if they did, would she mind?

She stood around for a bit, just in front of her now shut door. Not sure where to sit. The floor it is.

The sandwich had cooled off a bit now, but its warmth was still felt. It was perfect. Or at least familiar. She’d eaten the same thing yesterday, and the day before that. And the day before that, oats. After her sandwich.