Fiction Friday: Adventures in Eating Cereal
That mysterious liquid was soap. All I can taste right now is soap. I am an adult, I think.
I took the bowl of Cheerios and threw it down. The spoon flew out and rattled against the stainless steel kitchen sink, nearly careening over the ledge and onto the floor. The rest of the bowl crashed against the side, and the Cheerios flowed over like lava slowly working its way down a volcano.
The soap bubbled from my lips, flowing down my chin into the cold metal below.
I gagged. I could feel myself retching, the cold soap forming into a ball at the back of my throat, trying to wiggle its way free. Then all I could taste was more soap.
Adults do these things, right? I know the difference between soap and milk. Usually.
After all, I am an adult.