Breakfast

The bacon was piled in a heap.

The coffee was cold.

The egg was sunny side up

—yolk intact.

The toast was there, along with the gun.

She looked at the counter, once more.

making sure everything was set right.

He walked in, like always,

sat down on the stool,

and looked toward her.

across the room,

leaning against the kitchen sink,

cleaning the rest of the cheap china,

she stood silently looking back.

the rag still wrapped around a dish,

soap dripping on the floor.

into a puddle.

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