I folded the limp, wet toast onto my tongue.

Is it even toast any more when it’s wet? At school they used to sell white toast cut into triangles dripping in butter. That was floppy too. No, didn’t have any crunch to it. But definitely still toast.

I chewed and rolled the quid of limp carbohydrates around my mouth with my tongue. The rain continued to pool on my plate, the other slice getting wetter and wetter.

It was nearly dusk and the tide was coming in. I could see three lit-up boats just over on the horizon. They say the horizon is only a few miles away. I reached into my pocket for a biro and the piece of paper with the shopping list on, to do a little calculation. But that was sodden too and crumbled in my hand and onto my jeans.