The day begins innocently.
I have a clear plan: toast. Crispy. Warm. With tomato and Cantadou cheese. 🍅🧀
A simple dream. A modest wish.

I open the refrigerator.
I look inside.
I look inside again.
Empty. No tomato Cantadou. Just a yawning emptiness and silent reproaches.

So I sigh and get dressed, my dog is immediately excited—she thinks we're going on an adventure. And somehow she's right.
We walk to Migros together. Hope in our hearts. Toast on our minds.

Arrival at the refrigerated section.
I scan. Left. Right. Top. Bottom.
And there it isn't.

Instead:
Cantadou pepper.
Cantadou horseradish.
Yuck. No. That's not what I wanted. That's not why I came all this way.

I stand there, feeling as empty as the shelf where it should have been.
I leave Migros empty-handed and with a heavy heart.

So we go back home.
I toast the bread.
I eat it.
With blood.
Dry.
Without love.

End of a minor tragedy.
... I'll try again tomorrow. Maybe. 🍅🥲