The toast was too crisp around the edges. Just a little on the burnt side, but she choked it down, anyways. It clung to her throat on the way down, the kind of grasp you can’t swallow away. She tilted her head to the left. She was just a bit bemused by the whole situation. Soon after, her trachea began to produce the guttural noises of a caged animal as she calmly picked up her knitting needles. Oh, Life, she sighed, with just a hint of a smirk gently tugging her lips upwards. As the sounds became more frantic she eased her fingers through her listless hair, feeling the strands intertwine with her cuticles. She positioned her flannel pillow just below her strained neck and leaned back. She shut her eyes.