I’m in a jar. The lid is screwed on tight. I’m still pushing against it everyday, harder and harder. When I first pushed against it I heard a popping noise which excited me. I want to hear it again.
There are directions on the side of the jar which I’m told to follow, I’m an appropriate ingredient; to be thrown into the hot pan, combined with all the others from the jars. We can be – will be – societies most spectacular dish!
No one will recognise me again.
I won’t recognise me.
That’s why I must get out of the pantry.