How we eat eggs

As she started to remove the top from her soft boiled egg she began to ponder where ones attitudes to life came from. The old nature nurture argument she had rehearsed many times before and never found a satisfactory answer. As she tapped lightly around the crown she began to see the fracturing of the shell.

"Your eggs are ready," she called through again.

Placing the handle of the spoon against the top of the cracked egg she gently pushed it between the rich brown and the shining white. Turning the egg, the spoons handle separated the hard unforgiving outer from the soft albumen until the top was clean of shell and the beautiful white dome was still complete.

Where do people develop such vile attitudes to others, such vindictiveness, such outright hatred?

"Your eggs are getting cold."

She could hear him in the bedroom shouting at the radio. It was a horrible day for news, the events of yesterday had stunned everyone and people were struggling to come to terms with it. Some of the things people were saying on Twitter and Facebook upset her deeply. The desire for revenge seemed overwhelming in so many.

She lifted her toasted soldier and parted the white of the egg with her spoon. As the toast pierced the yolk the golden liquid flowed around and coated the brown crisp bread. There was something deeply satisfying for her about introducing all these elements together without spilling a drop of this childhood food.

A loud harrumph broke her reverie as a large shape sat down blocking the light from the window.

"I know what I would do with them," he said as he swung his knife and sent the top of the egg to the plate and the yolk spilled down the edges of the blue and cream striped eggcup.

She put down her spoon and sighed inside. She just wasn't hungry anymore.