Serial or Maybe Just Cereal – Paranoia #415

Posted on January 4, 2011


The word she remembered was ‘serial’. She obsessed over whether he meant ‘serial’, as in mystery novels, or ‘cereal’, like Fruit Loops. She played with the corner of her sleeve, stained crimson by wine. Had he feared she might be a ‘serial killer’? Did he think she might keep a carving knife under her pillow? Could she ever be so brutal? More likely he had discovered that she was a ‘serial monogamist’ and such creatures were feral and dangerous and required fragile consideration. The stain on her sleeve encouraged her to pour another glass of cabernet. When the glass was drained it no longer mattered what sort of ‘serial’ or ‘cereal’ she was. She lay on her floor, outstretched, trying to imagine what it felt like to be cereal floating, getting all soggy, eventually sinking to the bottom of the bowl.