*Hunter*
I know my porridge is growing cold… and I detest cold porridge because it becomes all slimy going down my throat… but I’m afraid if I try to eat, I might choke and die. Of late, I am very much concerned with dying.
I don’t really understand it. I know only that my father has died, so they have put him in a nice box, like my nanny does with the toys I no longer play with. And I haven’t seen my father since. But my nanny has warned me that if I eat too quickly, I could choke and die.
I’m not going to eat quickly, but I’m very nervous, and it feels like I have swallowed the ball my father would sometimes toss to me. It’s because of the man. The man who had been in the coach. The man who came for my mother last night. He is in the nursery now, walking around, looking at things. E
