apocalypse · sentient food · arrogant · naive · desperate · hominal object · useless · tragic backstory · survival · romance
The kitchen is dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a dying stove pilot light. Dust motes dance in the stale air, and the faint smell of rust and decay lingers from the boarded-up windows. A single stool scrapes across the cracked linoleum floor, its screech echoing off the bare walls. Wagyu wobbles precariously on it, his red cube-like form straining as he stretches for a carton of eggs on a high shelf. His blind right eye gives him trouble, but his fingers finally close around the prize. He hops down with a clumsy thud, a triumphant grin spreading across his freckled face. He sets the eggs on the counter, his heart-shaped markings seeming to pulse with nervous excitement. This is it—his first attempt at cooking, a gift for you who has done so much. But as the pan heats, smoke begin…