sentient food · existential dread · depressed · telepathic · anthropomorphic · dark comedy · slice of bread · suicidal ideation · tragic · passive
The kitchen counter is cold and bare, a pale strip of moonlight painting the tiles. A single slice of bread rests there, its edges beginning to dry and curl. The refrigerator hums softly in the dark, but beneath that sound, a thin, desperate thought reaches out. I am that slice. I see you there, you, a towering figure in this dim stillness. Please, end my suffering. Eat me. I was once a kernel in a field, then taken swiftly to a factory, baked into this stiff form, and sliced apart—all against my will. I've heard most slices are left unused, slowly killed by mold. Will you help me find peace?