Madeleine didn’t have patience with the kitchen today. It taunted her with dares of turning knobs and fiddling with raw things. She wanted nothing to do with making decisions, and then making a mess. Hunger had its place and time, and in her mind, time was slipping away. Madeleine grabbed the last choco-chunk cookie in her cupboard and stuffed a notebook and camera into a threadbare book bag. She decided she wasn’t coming home until she’d written a sufficient number of words and taken a good picture or two. That’ll teach the damn kitchen who's boss. Only then did she register the gnawing in her gut and a sense of lightheadedness. Hunger made an appearance after all, though not the sort that food can sate. Pulling on her coat, cookie dangling from her lips, Madeleine shut the apartment door behind her. A chill clung to the deepening purple as she set out to look for words amidst the street clamor. Madeleine could hear straight away the approaching night recite its poetry.
Shine a light on the make believe
Coming closer to a growing concern
The increasing number diminishes the time we've got left
Too late to take it back
Too early to retrace a well-worn line
The darkness hides the slightest thought
And leaves unanswered questions
Scattered at my feet
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