The bread was stale.

I knew it was stale.

I knew it because I held it.

I held the crust in my left hand.

My fingers were white.

My nails were short.

I had cut them that morning.

I cut them with a knife.

A dull knife.

A kitchen knife.

It had seen better days.

It had seen my mother’s hands.

It had seen my father’s hands.

It had seen the blood of the goat.

It had seen the blood of the rat.

It had seen the blood of the world.

But it had not seen this.

Not yet.

Not really.

I walked to the market.

The market was in the square.

The square was wet.

The rain had stopped.

The mud was deep.

My boots were heavy.

They were wet.

They were cold.

I walked fast.

I did not look up.

I looked at my feet.

I looked at the bread.

The bread was in a bag.

A paper bag.

Brown paper.

Torn at the top.

The flour dusted my hand.

White dust.

Like snow.

Like ash.

I touched my cheek.

The dust stuck.

I wiped it away.

My hand was clean.

My hand was dirty.

I went to the stall.

The stall was owned by Elias.

Elias was old.

His face was a map of wrinkles.

His eyes were small.

They were dark.

They did not blink.

He watched me.

I placed the bread on the counter.

The counter was wood.

Old wood.

Scratched wood.

I placed the bread down.

I did not speak.

I did not need to speak.

We knew what it was.

We knew what it meant.

Elias looked at the bread.

He looked at me.

He did not touch it.

He did not weigh it.

He just looked.

The silence was loud.

The silence was thick.

It tasted of iron.

It tasted of fear.

I took the bread back.

I put it in my bag.

I turned away.

I walked to the edge of the square.

I stood by the well.

The well was stone.

Cold stone.

I leaned on it.

I looked at my hands.

They were shaking.

My hands were shaking.

I put the bread in my pocket.

I took it out.

I put it back.

I took it out.

The crust was hard.

It was brittle.

It crumbled.

Small pieces fell.

They fell into the mud.

The mud ate them.

The mud swallowed them.

I watched them disappear.

I felt a pain.

A sharp pain.

In my chest.

In my throat.

In my eyes.

I blinked.

The tears came.

They were hot.

They were salt.

I did not wipe them.

I let them fall.

I let them fall on the bread.

The bread drank them.

The bread became soft.

The bread became warm.

I ate the bread.

I ate it in the mud.

I ate it in the rain.

I ate it in the cold.

I chewed.

I swallowed.

It was bitter.

It was sweet.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

I walked home.

My house was small.

It was white.

It was quiet.

I closed the door.

The door was heavy.

The lock was rusted.

I turned the key.

The click was loud.

I stood in the hall.

The hall was dark.

The shadows were long.

I went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was cold.

The stove was dead.

The fire was out.

I lit a candle.

The candle was small.

The flame was yellow.

The flame was weak.

It flickered.

It danced.

It died.

I relit it.

I relit it again.

I held the match.

The match burned my thumb.

I did not feel it.

I looked at the table.

The table was bare.

Except for the bread.

The bread was gone.

I had eaten it all.

I had eaten every crumb.

I had swallowed every tear.

I sat down.

The chair was hard.

The wood was cold.

I sat in the dark.

I sat in the silence.

I waited.

I waited for the knock.

I waited for the boot.

I waited for the shout.

I waited for the end.

The knock came.

It was soft.

It was gentle.

It was a tap.

A single tap.

I did not move.

I did not breathe.

The tap came again.

Then a voice.

It was Elias’s voice.

It was low.

It was rough.

It was kind.

I opened the door.

Elias stood there.

He held a basket.

The basket was full.

Full of bread.

Fresh bread.

Warm bread.

Golden bread.

He held it out.

He did not smile.

He did not speak.

He just held it out.

I took it.

The bread was hot.

The heat burned my hands.

I did not care.

I took the basket.

I held it tight.

I held it to my chest.

Elias looked at me.

His eyes were soft.

They were wet.

He turned away.

He walked into the dark.

He did not look back.

I closed the door.

I locked the door.

I sat down.

I opened the basket.

The bread smelled of yeast.

The bread smelled of life.

The bread smelled of hope.

I picked up a loaf.

It was round.

It was perfect.

It was beautiful.

I broke it.

The crust cracked.

The inside was white.

Soft.

Fluffy.

I ate it.

I ate it slowly.

I ate it with care.

I ate it with love.

I ate it with grief.

I ate it with rage.

I ate it with fear.

I ate it with joy.

I ate until I could not eat more.

I ate until my stomach hurt.

I ate until my head spun.

I ate until the world stopped.

I stopped.

I looked at the basket.

It was empty.

The bread was gone.

The basket was light.

I held the basket.

I held it in my hands.

I felt the weight.

The weight of nothing.

The weight of everything.

I stood up.

I went to the window.

The window was small.

The glass was dirty.

I looked out.

The town was asleep.

The streets were empty.

The lamps were out.

The moon was high.

The moon was cold.

The moon was white.

It looked like bread.

It looked like bone.

It looked like a blade.

A distant blade.

A sharp blade.

A silent blade.

I touched the glass.

The glass was cold.

The glass was hard.

I felt the moon.

I felt the cold.

I felt the dark.

I felt the end.

I was not afraid.

I was not angry.

I was not sad.

I was empty.

I was full.

I was nothing.

I was everything.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the justice.

I was the crime.

I was the victim.

I was the monster.

I was the saint.

I was the sinner.

I was the woman.

I was the man.

I was the child.

I was the old.

I was the young.

I was the dead.

I was the living.

I was the ghost.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the justice.

I was the crime.

I was the victim.

I was the monster.

I was the saint.

I was the sinner.

I was the woman.

I was the man.

I was the child.

I was the old.

I was the young.

I was the dead.

I was the living.

I was the ghost.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the justice.

I was the crime.

I was the victim.

I was the monster.

I was the saint.

I was the sinner.

I was the woman.

I was the man.

I was the child.

I was the old.

I was the young.

I was the dead.

I was the living.

I was the ghost.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the justice.

I was the crime.

I was the victim.

I was the monster.

I was the saint.

I was the sinner.

I was the woman.

I was the man.

I was the child.

I was the old.

I was the young.

I was the dead.

I was the living.

I was the ghost.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the justice.

I was the crime.

I was the victim.

I was the monster.

I was the saint.

I was the sinner.

I was the woman.

I was the man.

I was the child.

I was the old.

I was the young.

I was the dead.

I was the living.

I was the ghost.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the justice.

I was the crime.

I was the victim.

I was the monster.

I was the saint.

I was the sinner.

I was the woman.

I was the man.

I was the child.

I was the old.

I was the young.

I was the dead.

I was the living.

I was the ghost.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the bread.

I was the knife.

I was the hand.

I was the hunger.

I was the silence.

I was the dark.

I was the light.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.