Eerie the Practice

It's taken time, much of it, but I've finally woken up to my awfulness. Part of me, whatever accounts for my depth, is glad to have arrived at this point, the rest of me, abdomen and otherwise, preferred ignorance. Fitting it should happen in a hotel, with sun (streaming) and radio (blaring). When the call was patched through I was escaping through all parts of my dressing gown and not yet upright.

"It's happened," said someone in my voice.
"Hm?" replied.
"You know when you get to that point of your life when you get to that point in your life?"
He stared, maybe blinked.
"It hasn't happened to you?"
"No, I'm fat with contentment," he said, maybe shrugging.
"Well, it's happened to me." I looked down and waited.
"I feel I should offer to do something."
"Thank you."
And barely anything else was said. (For the record, there was an exchange of Goodbyes and something about it being nice to catch up.)

So I went home with it, no danger of its escaping. There, from an absence of onion, the thinner half of a carrot, two tomatoes, one large unwashed potato, two eggs, spices and cheese I fashioned a not completely inedible success.