The moon rises broken over the horizon. The sun's claws just barely reach over it, filling the house with the golden anticipation of warmth.
You put the (link:"kettle")[iron-plated [[skull]]] on.
It takes well to the fire; it belongs there; it belonged to an enemy, once.
Now it boils your [[water]].
You take a loaf of dense, crusted bread out of the (link:"oven")[brick oven mortared with rentier [[bones]]].
There'll be time for [[coffee]] today, you think.
Today you have as much coffee, butter, and bread as you could possibly (link-reveal:"need")[; and no more [bones]<o1| to mend(click: ?o1)[; //and no more [[bones->hands]] to break//]].
Today instead your hands break bread.