Cream-of-wheat. That’s what the combination of Sunday and missing your spouse tastes like.
The flavour is a void. It has lumps that stick in your throat. Hard to swallow.
You’re hungry but that’s all there is to eat. You flip back and forth between resistance and capitulation.
Maybe there is some salt or sugar or spice in the cupboards.
But it would take effort to look.
Do you exert it?
It’s hard on Sundays. After all, Sunday is spelled L-A-Z-Y.
But you know there’s more to the World of Food than cream-of-wheat.
Grocery stores are open on Sundays.
Screw it. You can’t eat this big bowl without some brown sugar.