It is shredded wheat. Not frosted. A big block of it in a plain white bowl, half full of milk.
It is on a table, where a man sits. There is
no other food on the table.
The man is dressed in a white
shirt and black slacks, and he'll put on a tie when he's finished.
he's not alone, it's just very early and his family is still asleep. He
takes his spoon and
turns the block of shredded wheat over in its bowl,
so that the other side can soak. He feels his
hunger, but he waits
anyway. After a period of time, of a length roughly the same as
and the day before (this time-period has become instinctual
for him), he picks up his spoon and
begins to break the block up. Not
completely of course, just into chunks that fit squarely onto
The chunks usually have one side that's soggy and one side that's still
a little bit crunchy.
The way he spoons each into his mouth, along with
an appropriate quantity of milk, puts the
crunchy side at his teeth and
the soggy side on his tongue.
As he chews, the crunchy side
gets pulverized while the soggy side is mashed up by the natural
of the tongue while chewing. When he has eaten all the chunks, there is
still milk left in
the bowl, and in it the crumbs that resulted from
breaking the initial block. He does not raise the
bowl to his lips to
drink the remainder; even though no one is there to see, he sticks to
and dutifully drains the bowl spoonful by spoonful. When
he is finished, there are still crumbs in
the bowl. He gets up from the
table, takes the bowl to the sink, and quickly rinses it out.
the bowl in the sink; it will be dealt with later. He walks away to get
his things, and then
The sun has not yet risen.