Waiting for the Click

A metallic tick-tick sound drew me down from the bookcase to the kitchen counter. The silver toaster had its lever down, humming quietly to itself. Heat was rising straight out of the twin slots in steady, dry waves. I sat two inches back on the cool granite, letting the warmth hit my face and chest. The surface reflected a warped red shape of my face. Then came a sharp snap, and two brown bread slices sprang up. I didn't flinch. I just stayed there, absorbing the fading warmth.

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