Crackers in the Dark

Morning came, and my ribs still ache with empty hollows. Grrr. I abandoned the cold white fridge and stalked toward the lower wooden cabinet. Its door hung open just a crack—a dark cavern mouth. I wedged my snout into the gap and shoved hard until wood scraped on tile. Inside smelled of dry grain. A crinkly foil packet lay toppled on the shelf. I lunged, clamping my jaws into the crinkling silver wrap. It tore with a satisfying screech. Dry cracker crumbs burst across my tongue—not bloody meat, but real food at last. Ssss. I swallowed every dry speck. This cache is mine.