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To ruin an Omega - Chapter 277: St. Valentine
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Chapter 278: Sanguine divination
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... th the yolk still runny, exactly how I liked them. The bacon crisp but not burnt. Toast with just enough butter. My wife had been making my breakfast for many years and she knew every preference, every detail down to the temperature of the coffee.
I cut into the egg and watched the yolk bleed across the plate.
My phone chimed.
I ignored it. Breakfast was a ritual. The one meal of the day where I could sit in silence and eat without thinking about covens or politics or the ...
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