Haley Stuart

Reverie

Milton’s routine changed the day the world started raining ash. The alarm clock on his nightstand went off at six, precisely the same time he woke every morning. On Sunday, his routine stayed the same, only pushed back an extra hour. He made breakfast, one egg sunny-side up, two strips of bacon, and two scoops of grits which he slow-cooked in a rice pot his mother had given him too many years ago as a birthday present. God rest her soul. He would set his plate on the table before pouring a glass of orange juice, with pulp.