Crossroads (Flash Fiction - Topic = Breakfast)

Breakfast Monday morning was a crossroads. She stared hard at the toast, poached eggs, and small glass of orange juice. Standard American fare. It's what everyone ate, on paper. 

What she really wanted was a salad, and perhaps a juicy ribeye steak. She'd eat the fat rind everyone else cut off and enjoy it. Why did everyone cut that off and discard it, yet happily eat the fat on bacon slices?

Was it going to be conventional like this forever? The thought of that made her heart sink, like a beach ball kicked it off the precarious cliff edge where it rested, arching parabolically in a slow descent.

No. She would not let her hopes and dreams be dashed on the rocky, surf blasted crags below. In her mind's metaphor, a blast of windy sea spray lifted the beachball of her heart and carried it out over the open sea.

She picked up her smart phone where it lay beside her fork and dialed.

"Hi. It's Sally," she said. "I quit."

She hung up and set about making a grilled steak salad.

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