I dropped an egg on the kitchen floor - the floor must have been uneven, for the egg began to slide towards me, slowly. I thought it was chasing me. I got scared, and ran away.

He always ordered eggs for breakfast. Every day I sat and watched him eat. Sometimes, I would eat too. Sometimes, he would give me something from his plate. But most days, I just sat and watched him eat.

Every forkful was perfect. Each, the same size as the one before. He never talked with his mouth full. Mesmerizing. A siren song of breakfast.

Every day we sat together in the glass-encased cafeteria. Sometimes, it was surrounded by fog, and I tried to pretend I was sitting in a cloud. But it always felt like sitting in a foggy cafeteria.

We talked to each other. I always rationed my words. Careful. I was afraid to say too much; I was afraid to show emotion. I was afraid he would get scared and run away.

I was getting bored with breakfast. I was getting bored with measuring out each word -- keeping them laced tightly together; careful not to let one phrase out of my reign of power for an instant. Bored with being afraid the words would get loose and frighten him.

I was getting bored with his pointed little boy's face sitting there perfectly eating its breakfast.

One day he bit a piece of bacon and it broke unevenly. A piece of bacon hung out of his mouth for a fraction of an instant. I smiled. I never saw him order bacon after that.

I began to hide. I sat with loud friends. I laughed too hard. I even cursed. I tried to shock him. Sometimes I would wonder what I was doing. But not for long.

I didn’t have to worry about my words anymore. I didn’t have to pick through them and discard anything. I used them all. I raced through entire sentences and paragraphs with selfish glee. I made puns that only I understood. I thought I was clever. I know I was boring.

Sometimes, I would remember the polished perfection with which I used to speak. Sometimes, I would focus on those perfect motions spreading jam evenly on toast. Sometimes, I would remember watching him eat his eggs for breakfast. But mostly, I tried not to.