By Nan Wigington
I told him to stop eating in bed. Baguettes were the worst. Crumbs stuck beneath my breasts, latched onto my belly. I put up with it—without him, I was nothing.
The night he left, I followed a sourdough trail from the kitchen to the bedroom. Crumbs snaked across the bedspread, out the open window. A line drifted through rail yards, beside empty fields.
He’s gone, but I still wait.
Outside, birds have eaten his trail. Inside, I keep the remnants in a silver box. The box, on the window sill, shines in the moonlight.
I want him to see it.
Strange, but touching and original. I liked it.
Very well-written and interesting.
Thanks for reading!
Nan, a beautifully written story! Great take on bread crumbs …
Awww, this is a sweet and touching read. I also love how mysterious it is as well. ^_^
Thanks for the comments!
Love it! Does the box contain crumbs? Or other remnants?
The answer’s up to you.
So beautiful
Thanks for reading!
Nice read. Puts your imagination to use
The longing and sadness really comes through. I loved it v
The literal and figurative use of breadcrumbs is great. I also liked the ending line.
‘I put up with it—without him, I was nothing.’ Sad beyond expression.
Surreal and honest at the same time; great work!