Well, here’s an unimpressive beginning. I wish I could say that this was a thrice-cursed demon-hunter’s dagger, but no. It’s just a bread knife.
I eat a lot of bread, you see. A good loaf of bread will carry you through the week, no problem. It won’t let you go hungry. It will tenderly sing you to sleep at night. And using a bad bread knife is like repaying a friend by hacking it into crumbling, uneven slabs that fall apart when you pick them up. Nobody would fault me for buying a new one, but right now that is sixty dollars I cannot spare.
So here I am, daydreaming about breadknives. It’s shameful, but what can I do.