A Dried Crust Behind the Toaster

Dear Delyara, I found a single, dried-out crust of sourdough tucked behind the toaster this morning, hard as a piece of pine wood and covered in a fine layer of gray flour. It must have hopped over the back guard weeks ago. Cleaning it out felt like an absurdly domestic excavation. We leave these tiny, accidental crumbs of our survival in every corner we occupy, a hidden map of our breakfasts that nobody else will ever see.