I once knew a girl who was terribly bored and began to eat other people's yawns. She maintained a varied diet, consuming yawns from checkout chicks to teachers, truck drivers to accountants. The yawns of teenage girls were her favourite though as they had a certain zing to them. A sharp zest of 'over-it' mixed with a sweet tang of 'the future is female'.
Every so often, the girl ate a yawn from someone nearing death. She could tell because her tongue would tingle ferociously as if each particle of breath was smashing it on the d-floor for that one last hurrah. Each time, the girl thought about telling the ill-fated person but it didn’t seem quite right. Could this knowledge really alter their fate? Would it put undue stress upon them in their final days/hours/minutes?
Instead she opted for something easier, a simple compliment. You have spectacular eyes, I love your hair, you’re totally rocking that jumpsuit! The girl loved seeing their smiles erupt and always felt better afterwards. She even started praising those who didn’t have a date with the Grim Reaper. Some people gave the girl a compliment back and this made her feel special. Eating yawns started to seem less important and the girl was happy for them to be a sometimes food.