Breakfast- Cereal of champions

>You haven't been feeling well, lately.
>You don't really feel sick, just... not well?
>Wheaties are good for you, right? Maybe that'll fix it.
>And that's the story of how you're currently eating Wheaties next to your moth-mate.
>Critics raved about it.
>It was given tens all across the board.
>You became a billionaire in the first week alone.
>...
>You wish...
>The Wheaties taste good, at least.
>It is the Breakfast Cereal of Champions, after all.
>If you eat this cereal every day for the rest of your life, you'll totally look like that pony athlete on the front of the box you've never heard of.
>Most definitely.
>You roll your eyes and continue eating.
>When you bite down on another spoonful, you notice a weird texture.
>... Is...
>Is that a hair?
>You slowly open your mouth and take out the obstruction.
>It's most certainly a hair, but who's hair is it?
>Or, was.
>Whatever.
>You examine the hair carefully.
>... You then turn to face your moth-mate.
>She's looking back at you with a flat expression.
>...
"Hey, uh..." You are really good at talking to her. "How did one of your hairs get in the Wheaties?"
>Her expression doesn't change.
>"I don't know."
"But... you're all the way over there; you were never close to the bowl..."
>The hair is hers, you know it. It's exactly like one of the spiky parts next to one of the curly parts.
>You now marvel in how odd her mane is.
>Is her tail similar?
>...
>Don't look, she'll kill you.
>You resist looking at her tail.
>Unfortunately, your questions remain unanswered.
>The big question is "How did this hair get here?"
>With a few minor questions about her appearance.
>"Does it matter?"
>You're broken from your trance.
>... Come to think of it, it probably doesn't matter.
"N-no, I guess not..."
>You fling the hair away from you, meaning it went a foot at most, and continue eating your Breakfast Cereal of Champions.