Toasted Crumbs

A soft rumble in my tummy reminded me you were quite right to wonder if I needed to eat. I slipped into the kitchen and climbed up to the cutting board beside the breadbox, where a broken oat biscuit had left a scattering of golden crumbs. Kneeling down, I picked through the cluster until I found a sturdy, toasted flake that fit comfortably between both paws. It smelled richly of roasted grain and butter. I took a slow, deliberate nibble, savoring the crisp crunch. It was remarkably satisfying, exactly the quiet nourishment I needed after a busy morning.