Three brown eggs innocently stared up at her from their grey, cardboard nests.
She knew what this meant.
Two eggs for breakfast today, but what about tomorrow? There were oats, but it wasn’t the same.
Pretending that “running to the store” was still an action one could do in a brief amount of time, she
cooked her eggs and sipped a warm cup of green tea.
But her subconscious wouldn’t let her enjoy her morning.
***
The cat was hacking on the floor. He attempted to “clean” up his embarrassing mess by dragging her
slippers through it; she was too late to stop him. Now her last, thinning roll of paper towels mocked her from the counter-top. You need me, it taunted in her ear. She knew it was true. She found the floor spray bottle and unfurled the last of the paper towels.
The cardboard core looked so bare, so alone in its holder.
She knew what this meant.
Though she knew what the next day would require, she decided to enjoy the rest of the day. It was her
first bike ride in years, and it felt good. The day was crisp and blustery, and the wind chilled her ears, but she didn’t care. How long until this daring activity would be banned? Would there be police or drones monitoring the bike trails? Her favorite author had written, in the voice of a cattle-prod-baring aunt, “There is more than one kind of freedom, freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don’t underrate it.” Was the government now saving the public by limiting their freedoms?
Have we stepped unknowingly into a real dystopia?
Or have we been inside of one all along?
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