part 325.2 of a novel: crumpled pictures

I have a pile of crumpled pictures in the corner behind the door. They sometimes unfold themselves and run around the apartment and eat things I want to eat in the morning. They unfold themselves and eat all the eggs and then run back to the corner and crumple themselves back up. I have not had eggs for breakfast in a month. I go to the supermarket and buy a carton. I bring them home. I put them in the refrigerator. I brush and floss. I go to sleep. Crumpled pictures unfold themselves. I do not have eggs when I wake up. I am not mad at the crumpled pictures. They can not help themselves. They are mostly blurry pictures and old preschool photos.