Breakfast

Syd's Thursday morning lacked any distinguishing features from the day before. Same gloomy dawn, same bathrobe, same kitchen table, same flat expanse of brown grass and weeds that reached all the way to the horizon. Syd was in search of a better outlook on life, but she hadn't exerted a whole lot of effort of late in the undertaking. The day of the week didn't matter, the weather forecast didn't matter. The stains down the front of Syd's bathrobe weren't worthy of distress or contemplation. They looked almost paisley-like, the stains, in shades of red and brown. No coffee in the house meant no breakfast. Breakfast was caffeine. Syd stood in front of her open cupboards. A tin of salty little fish or a box of baking soda were her meal choices. She sighed at the toppled over tower of coffee filters. She'd take tea if she had any. Syd reached for the fish. She wondered if she'd feel different with a belly full of omegas. Would they ease the headaches? Syd pulled back the top of the tin and watched a trickle of golden oil make an exclamation point on a splotch-free patch of terry cloth.