The microwave scrolls “PRESS START” across its indigo screen. There was one second left before I stopped it from further radiating my oatmeal. What’s one second anyway? One second less of the bombarding waves. One second less agitating for my molecules. Would I miss one second of my life if it was taken from me? What would I do with one more second?
The BEEP.
Finished.
Done cooking.
STOP/CLEAR.
The plateau
Of motionless.