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Lunch

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Noise. An indistinct
rumble of conversation.
Perched upon small,
round, plastic seat,
seeing only the
uninterested face
of the person across
the small table.
Enveloped in a whirl
of movements.
I retract my senses.
Bag empty, I stare
at the lifeless table.
My eyes slowly close.
Noise encases my body,
filling my aching head
with the clatter.
My ears overflow.
A slit opens between
the lids of my eyes.
The vision of the room
pierces my eyes.
I turn to the side and
place my cold elbows
on the table’s edge.
A cold breeze circulates
the sweaty cafeteria.
The distinct odor of
hamburger fills
my nostrils.
This is lunch.





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