Charlotte
Thirsty...
Hungry...
Beside me; a plastic jug of water and an aluminium takeaway tray, already opened, half-eaten: the remains of someone's else's meal. A fly floats motionless in the water.
Cara...
Fishing out the fly, I take a bare sip of the water, swilling out my puffy mouth, then spit out, gagging at the foul taste...
How long has it been standing?
?
?
Hungry...
I eye the food, my stomach rebelling...
I've eaten trash before now.
It's food...
And I gobble it down, scooping it out of the carton with my fingers, sucking the fingers clean to get it all. It's stale and stinking, semi-congealed in its container...
But it's food...
Then, rice and soy sauce clot in my throat...
What if they drugged it?
Could I tell?
I wait, looking inwardly, analysing every sensat
