A toasters last slice... by Munchkinmay, literature
Literature
A toasters last slice...
My power turns on, CLICK. I feel the electricity run through me, the start of a brand new day. I wait to be loaded like I am every day. Two wholemeal slices this morning, setting 4 as usual, I get to work and start cooking. I get hot, I come to life. The small highlight of my day is about to arrive, it's almost ready, cooked perfectly, POP. And it's done. CLICK, my power drains and I sleep.
CLICK, it's morning again. Another two wholemeal slices get dropped into my slots, what is my life other than waiting for that spring of readiness? Why do I bother to cook the slices slowly and perfectly? I fight against my machinery and cook the bread ho