A man in a hood came into the room and then

A man in a hood came into the room and then

I was only four years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday. ...The warm buns smushing against clean, crisp tomatoes. It was my very first sandwich. It tasted horrible.

Since then, I've avoided sandwiches like the plague. I've never been on a picnic, nor attended a high tea. I packed soup for lunch. However, all my preparations were for naught

when I went on my first date. I didn’t know where I was going until we were already there, and by then, it was too late. A sandwich had been ordered. I tried to avoid eating it,

as I hadn't even realised it contained onions. I was allergic to onions. Not to mention the weird side effects they gave me. If my date realised that after eating them I became

an onion myself, she would surely leave me... On the other hand, she loved onions, she wasn't allergic. Maybe she would not mind her boyfriend being an onion and start a relationsh

ip that brought her tears of joy instead. Maybe. I could always hope. I could be that onion. And if I wasn't, just peel off a layer and I was a different onion. For her, I would do

-ff my papery skin and slide my smooth white body into her hand, but I know what she's do. She'd cut me, just like she always did. And she would weep as she cut me. And I would

Weep with her. My blood would mix with our tears and as the knife slowly twisted I in my minds eye would transcend this world and wilt in a rapidly decaying galaxy.