>Of all of the sugary cereals, you may be eating the best one.
>Frosted Flakes.
>They're like Corn Flakes, but not bland.
>They're like Frosted Mini-Wheats, but good.
>No, not good...
>THEY'RE GRRRRRRREAT!
>And almost completely gone.
>As in, you bought a full box and now the last of it is in your bowl.
>You have no clue where rest of it went.
>... Now that you think of it, this has been happening for all of your breakfasts.
>Every single breakfast you've had, you seem to finish it off after only one sitting.
>But you can't finish an entire box of cereal in one go.
>That's insane.
>Your breakfast food has just been... disappearing.
>And you only just noticed.
>"Anon!"
>SWEET SUGARY HEART-ATTACK.
>You cough and sputter for a bit, attempting to recover from the moth-rage next to you.
>As you regain your composure, you look at her, wondering what could possibly cause such an outburst.
>She's staring at you.
>You've totally gotten over the stare.
>Your heart isn't beating rapidly right now, that's just... your stomach, or something...
>You're terrified.
>"Just finish the cereal so I can drink the milk."
>Your mind can't think of a rebuttal.
>That stare is overpowered.
>"Seriously, you've just been staring at it for a minute."
>... Oh. You must have zoned out at some point.
>Looks like it's your fault once again.
>Defeated, you turn back around to devour your food.
>Like a tiger eating its prey.
>And that tiger is helping children with sports.
>And advertising this cereal.
>You like Tony.
>After finishing your great breakfast, you pass the bowl off to your moth-mate.
>You get up from your chair and stretch. Today will be a great day.
"Well, I'm going to go vacuum the bedroom."
>Your moth-mate nods and sticks her tongue in the milk.
>With that, you're off. You leave through the door to the hallway.
>You turn left.
>You totally went to the wrong one.
 
>Whatever, it's a looping hallway; you just have to walk this way and you'll eventually get to the bedroom.
>Your kitchen/dining room is connected to the same hallway twice. It's... weird. You don't understand the point of architecture like that, but you try not to question it on a daily basis.
>Meaning you question it on a daily basis.
>Conveniently, this hallway connects to the rest of the house.
>Every single room.
>It's weird.
>Even that room with no light-switch. The one you never go in. Not because it scares you, but... uh... because it scares you...
>Just as you almost get to the other entryway to the dining kitchen, you hear a sigh. Not a loud sigh, a very faint sigh.
>... Sounds a lot like eavesdropping time.
>Your moth-mate seldom speaks to herself.
>It makes sense to you; you do it too.
>It probably has something to do with loneliness.
>You press yourself against the wall, eager to hear what she has to say.
>...
>...
>Silence.
>...
>Wait, you hear something.
>She's... panting.
>... That's... certainly something.
>A soft moan escapes her lips.
>...
>Last time you heard that, you ended up calling it an incident.
>... Then there was silence.
>She's probably freaking out.
>She does that a lot when she thinks you aren't eavesdropping.
>But you are.
>You're a horrible person.
>You'll have to Metal Gear your way out of this one. Usually, you just have to go back a few rooms and you're safe, however, you're supposed to be in the bedroom right now. If she checks there and doesn't see you...
>You hear her pick up the bowl.
>She's heading toward the sink.
>Now is your chance.
>You turn around to face the wall you're against, so you'll be able to see her once you pass that doorway.
>You gracefully jump across the open space.
>She's looking into the sink.
>You are successful.
>As the coolest ninja in the house, you sneak to the bedroom to vacuum.
>It was a cleaning stealth day