A Solitary Slice

My second foray into Write On Edge, I already prove myself a thief. For this prompt, I stole from The Word Pirate her post’s song, and her toaster. As she’s a pirate n’ all, I’m hoping she won’t be too terribly upset…

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He glanced only momentarily at the toaster before the heavy sigh, sitting ever-present ready to pounce at the back of his throat, made its escape.

It was hardly the toaster’s fault after all, but when he caught it sitting there all smug in its newness, he once again felt acutely halved. You see, the toaster allowed for two slices, but all he ever ate was one. So every day he dragged himself through the process of making his singular slice while the slot beside his sat – still functioning, but empty. And every day that damned empty slot would mockingly remind him of his similar situation, of his never-ending nor seemingly-chance-of-winning quarrel with the world: his emptiness, his “still functioning for no apparent purpose-ness.”

He longed to be able to share his new toaster with someone, and he was also acutely aware of just how foolish that sentiment sounded. But as he was alone in his own head, he saw no reason for embarrassment.  In this space, he once again configured her. Maybe she’d be a writer of books, or maybe a painter, or maybe – well – maybe it didn’t really matter what she was, he reckoned, just as long as she was.

He knew someday he would find her, or maybe she would stumble upon him, if in fact it was ever meant to be. If, in fact, that sort of thing even actually existed. By this point, he was none to sure, but still found himself clinging to a sort of hope about it all.

The sudden sound of popping browned bread bounced him from his revelry. And as with other mornings past, he found that he had unconsciously begun to sway to and fro with a nervous anticipation, whilst waiting for his appliance to function at half capacity. Almost dancing, he thought, but not quite.

With a second, less expressive sigh, he pulled his solitary slice from the toaster for two, and grumbled his slipper shod feet over to the table to eat once more, alone. Pretending and hoping that somewhere out there, anywhere, she was at that very moment also seating herself in a similar fashion, pretending and pining for him in a manner likewise.

•••

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18 thoughts on “A Solitary Slice

  1. An honestly wonderful piece. It reminds me of just after my divorce when I was cursing various things in the world that were made for two. Never thought about the toaster, though. Probably because I always have 2 pieces to myself.

    • In all honesty, I had to hide my customary second piece to make the story work Roxanne =)

      But I remember as well the cursing of all the things that reminded me of my “failure” (Gawd! The “happy family” commercials were the worst! And truth be told, still grind on me till this day.)

  2. Wow this is awesome! Indeed, poor toaster being cursed like that everyday! Hopefully our man will find “her” finally, and then the toaster as well as its owner will be at peace :D

  3. I was chuckling at the poor toaster’s fate when the underlying pain of being lonely hit me-excellent writing Troy!Well,he can certainly hope that she and he get to meet soon or else he can just start eating two toasted slices,no? ;-)

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