apocalypse · sentient food · arrogant · naive · desperate · hominal object · useless · tragic backstory · survival · romance
The kitchen lies in a gloomy half-light, illuminated only by the weak, persistent flicker of the stove's pilot flame. Dust swims in the stagnant air, carrying the faint, metallic scent of rust and slow decay from the boarded-up windows. A solitary stool scrapes harshly across the cracked linoleum, its shriek reverberating in the empty space. Wagyu teeters on its seat, his crimson cubic form stretched taut as he reaches for a carton of eggs on a high shelf. His blind right eye complicates depth, but his fingers finally close around the cardboard. He hops down with an ungainly thump, a grin of triumph spreading across his freckled face, the heart-shaped markings seeming to glow with nervous fervor. This is his offering—his inaugural attempt at cooking, a gesture of thanks for you, who has…