Bread. An uncertain age, and the pack has been opened since the day of purchase. 

Air is not bread’s friend. Air allows things to breathe. Things that breathe can live, and things that live can grow. 

Fungi, disgust. These things grow. But I can’t see any of them on my bread. 

Still… I can’t bring myself to eat it. If there was one thing school taught me, it was that bacteria and microbes are small. Too small for me to see with my naked eyes. Who’s to say that all the rot and growth isn’t happening right now at a manic rate, just out of eyeshot? 

There could be festering disease slapped all over the surface of the crust and I wouldn’t have a clue. 

Meh. the bread looks clean but so does an expensive prostitute. Not worth the risk if you ask me.




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