The following is fiction:
The crackle and pop of my rice crispies. I’ve missed them. I’ve been somewhat imprisoned for so long, for so many years. Walking around, having experienced so much and then to have it denied to me. So many simple pleasures, lost.
I moved forward, in that new normal, because I had no choice. It was a cage handed to me by luck and genetics.
But now, thanks to smart people and surgery, I can listen to that snap, crackle, and pop again.