The Breakfast

While his wife and son are still in bed, he is busy in the kitchen as a husband and father. Not only is he home for breakfast, but he is responsible for making it.

He sets the food on the table and waits for his wife and son, who have just woken up, to take their places.

His wife and son have to go to work and his son has to go to school, so the three of us should have a full breakfast before we go out. He used to bring home biscuits and doughnuts for convenience; later, he decided that bringing out food was not sincere enough, so he cooked it himself at home instead.

He came home every day to make breakfast - but he wasn't home before dawn. He and his sexless wife of many years agreed to let him stay out overnight. His sophomoric excuse at first was that he had to work late, so he could just sleep in the office bed, so why come home in the middle of the night and wake up his wife who was having a nervous breakdown ........ The melancholy wife did not say a word.

Since then, he rarely comes home for the night.

Of course, he could not commit himself to the office - he had another lover's home to go to.

He burned in his lover's bed night after night. But he had a rule: after the lovemaking, he had to return to his home in time to compensate his wife and children by preparing breakfast on his own initiative.

This is the only way to balance the late night debauchery with the early morning virtue. The richness of the breakfast he provides is directly proportional to the pleasures of the night; the more soulful the previous night, the more attractive the breakfast the following day.

He benefited at night and must give concrete feedback to his lonely wife and children with food, otherwise the guilt would bite.

He remembered his lover's nipples and served his wife a strawberry salad as soon as he turned around; he recalled his lover's golden underbelly while he fried honey muffins for his children. A busy breakfast, a nutritious atonement.

He never spent another night at home. His wife and children, however, did not lack any breakfast of conscience.

But his lover complained, because he always followed the rules: after the sex, he took his usual shower, went back to his lover's bed to catch up on a few hours of sleep, woke up before dawn, and drove home without fail. His lover wanted to keep him for breakfast, but he always refused. It's not fair, she sighs.

But he thought it was fair. His lower body, the second half of the day, is given to his lover.

The top half of his body, the top half of his day, should be reserved for his wife and children. The lover shouldn't have the top and bottom, too greedy, it would cause him to lose his balance.

On the night of Valentine's Day, his lover again begged him to stay for breakfast the following day.

He became violently impatient and slapped his lover. Unexpectedly, the slap sets off a tsunami of desire, and the two of them want to die. After several wild battles, he falls asleep and forgets to take a shower.

He even overslept - it was the blinding sunlight that woke him up. He jumped out of his affair's bed and asked his lover in a fit of rage: Why didn't you tell him to get up early? He couldn't get home in time to make breakfast - breakfast? It's after noon, wait for lunch.

His lover was frying a steak for two. And he brushed off.

He was frustrated and stuck in traffic all the way home. Twelve-thirty noon. He is stuck at an intersection, with his way to work on one side and his way home on the other. 1:30 p.m. He has an ominous feeling and has no intention of going to work, but just wants to go home and check. His reproductive organs were sorry for the digestive system of his wife and children.

He entered the house and was surprised at how dark and stifling it was - he remembered the hot, bright air of the road.

He fumbled to turn on the light in the dining room and saw his wife in a ratty gray suit, his son in full uniform and clutching his school bag, and his wife and son sitting at the empty dining room table as if they had never moved in all of history.

He couldn't understand what was happening, so he asked his son (he didn't dare look his wife in the eye anyway): "Why aren't you and Mom at work or at school - it's already 2:30 p.m. ......"

The son stared at him with cool eyes like his wife. "So hungry, we haven't eaten breakfast yet."

The sun was shining outside the house, but it hadn't started to dawn in his house.