Six Things Before Breakfast

It happened again.

While I slept, the Universe rewrote itself around me.

Like every time before, people I had known for years never existed, and this time, a surly teenage daughter I'd never met was giving me the silent treatment for some offence that this me had apparently done.

Browsing the newspaper, some letters had strange shapes, from an alphabet that had developed differently. I could still read, but how many more such changes would render me illiterate?

As I sat staring at my cereal bowl, in awkward silence, I contemplated the final insult: This reality also had no bananas.