snapped raze one morning she screamed at him for buttering his toast wrong. as if there were right and wrong ways to spread something on a cooked piece of bread. as if the bread would know, and it would tell its friends, and then people would learn the language of bread to better enjoy the gossip, the idle talk of bread, the gospel according to children of the loaf, and those people would talk, and word would get out. he brought it up a week or a month later. she brushed it off and said she was having a bad day. and he thought, that day wasn't even a day yet. it was just getting started. how can you make up your mind that the thing is going to be shit before it's even shown you half its face? what is that? he still butters his toast the wrong way. 160428 ... leif I needed this. 160428 what's it to you? who go blather from