Kaitlyn Therese Bouchard

Served Chilled

Food. That's all I could think about. My stomach audibly cried for me to eat something, anything. A man at the other end of the car carried an apple, half rotten. My face twisted at the sight of such disgusting food. I was already failing at attracting attention as I rocked back and forth. Pulling my sweater closer around me, I took the time to scan the train car.