I close my eyes, mouthwatering in anticipation. I take my first bite of the lukewarm burger. In my mind I’m disappointed, but the inside my mouth is joyful with the savory and salty taste. I chew quickly, desperate for my next bite which I take with zeal. Another big bite, and another and another. I look around then, see people staring, so I slow down, chew my food before swallowing. I’m embarrassed that the customers are looking, I’m nervous as the manager walks by. I look down sheepishly.
“Is it good” the person across the table from me asks. I nod as I take my last bite. “Do you want more?” he asks.
“No thank you.” I respond feeling the shame begin to mount. I hate the pitying look in his eyes. “Could you spare a couple of bucks?” I ask as I stand up.
“I told you outside that I’d buy you food but not give you money.” We both look at each other, disappointed in the other.
Anger begins to creep in. “Yeah, wouldn’t want me spending it on drugs, right?” I bite my lip to keep from saying anything else. I should be thankful. I haven’t eaten in days. This man didn’t have to buy me that burger, could have just passed me by when I asked him for change. But I am angry. I’m angry at this person, I’m angry at all the customers, and I’m angry at the world.
Elizabeth Rosell
Elizabeth Rosell lives in Northern Ontario, Canada, with her cat Belle. She has spent her life working in the non-profit field, inspired by her own mental health issues with borderline personality disorder. Elizabeth has been published in The Seat, Punk Monk, The Amphibian, and Yale’s The Perch among others. When not writing, she spends her spare time crafting and baking. She can be found online at www.ElizabethRosell.com.
I love the perspective. The mutual disappointment hits home.