Author Topic: Nothing Tastes Good (Read 97 times)
Aaron Silverman
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Joined: November 2014
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Nothing Tastes Good
« Feb 16, 2016 16:03:28 GMT -6 » 		Quote
Poke.

Poke poke.

He's looking right at it, but Aaron isn't sure what's on his tray, exactly. It hasn't really been worth the effort, even though the robocook's been on overdrive filling everyone's stomachs, giving 'em something nice before they all go off to the battlefield.

Too much is on his mind, his stomach is rolling about too much. The wood box is next to his tray, a name engraved on it in gold. He'd felt like he had to make a pit stop, but no sooner had he sat down, amid the buzzing silence and the dread, than his appetite had fled him. So here he'd sat, poking aimlessly, wondering if he was just distracting himself from seeing the one person he wanted to see most but also feared seeing most.

His eyes were heavy as boulders. He would've forced himself out of his self-imposed hermitage anyway, to make the delivery and finally talk to people, but he'd still eaten and slept far less than his body was used to, than what he needed. That weighed on him, not as much as the looming clouds and thunder of war but approaching them. He knew if he looked in a mirror there'd be faint dark circles under his eyes, and he knew the churning in his stomach as his body begged his mind to just eat something already, tormented by the smells. For a while, it was just that he wasn't sure he cared.

Poke poke. Poke poke poke.

Sigh.

A little cloud of darkness escaped him, starting to surround him, almost spreading before he idly waved a hand and it was gone just like that. He lifted his fork, almost took a bite...

Put it back down. It would taste like ash and blood anyway, he told himself.
« Last Edit: Feb 16, 2016 17:59:52 GMT -6 by Aaron Silverman » Back to Top  


Some things are worth fighting for, some feelings never die...

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