“If our cover breaks in here, we’re toast. Worse that toast, we’re the crappy crumbs of carbon left at the bottom of a toster oven that I haven’t cleaned out in three months.”
“We met every morning, still bearded with toast crumbs from our continental breakfasts.”
“Toast is me.I am toast.”
“This toast feels raw. Is it safe to eat raw toast?”
“We clean our plates, yet we’re still famished—starving for something other than food.”
“We’re not completely happy here because we’re not supposed to be! Earth is not our final home; we were created for something much better.”