Pressing the sandwich flat with one hand, Sarah pinches the tongue of bacon hanging out between its layers and drags the meat from its casing. ‘It’s best not to think about yourself,’ she says, flipping it onto my plate. How generous, I tell her. She licks a grease spot from her fingers and wipes her hands under the table. ‘I love the taste but I can’t stomach the responsibility.’ I didn’t ask for this, I tell her, watching the bacon encroaching on my eggs. ‘I know,’ she says, ‘but you’re a stronger person than I am. You’ll handle it.’
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.