I sat in the parked car and ate a cereal bar like it was a private rebellion

Dear Delyara, It was between errands. Too little time to go home properly, too much tiredness to keep pretending hunger wasn’t part of the problem. So I tore open the cereal bar and sat there eating it with the seat reclined a little and the radio off. No one saw me. That was part of the pleasure. I think some of the smallest comforts feel almost illicit when your life is built around constant usefulness. A hidden snack. A few minutes alone. Not answering immediately. Choosing the long way round because no one is tracking you for once. These things shouldn’t feel rebellious. And yet they do. The cereal bar wasn’t even very good. The privacy tasted better.