I may have broken the toaster. It was never a particularly nicer or resilient toaster. Knowing the people who built this student housing it was probably the cheapest model not the Ikea seat machine sitting in tested model.

It was a day like any other. I was trying to toast something that didn’t fit. Normally I’d just give it a gentle shove and in it would go. The toaster didn’t love it but it’s not like I own a bagel slicer or the ability to cut things evenly. I did stop buying a certain brand of bread because it was ever so slightly too wide for the toaster and one end of the crust would get rubbed off as I jammed it down.

This day was different. As I shoved the bun half that came out bigger in a spark flew — or a burning bun ember I’m not sure which — and the breaker blew.

I have not used the toaster since. Partially out of fear and partially because I have accepted that things too big for the toaster should probably go in the oven. Apparently it no longer works and I think I can pinpoint the precise time of death.

Rest in peace friend and I’m sorry I didn’t treat you better.

(If the housing people try to blame me for the toaster this is a work of fiction.)


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