People are almost halfway through their meal, but I have not touched mine, and the aroma is not doing any justice to this situation. I take a couple of sips of the juice first, hoping it can calm my nerves. I throw a glance at Jerol from the corner of my eyes. His food is barely touched too, perhaps because he has been watching me fight with this damn knife and fork. I put the glass of juice down, and I grab the stupid tools again. Just one more. They have to work! They need to.
I angrily try, but the result is the same. I put them together and toss them aside, mentally murmuring a thousand curses to them. I grab the chicken piece with my hand, and munch on it. I will do things the best way I know how to. I can't force myself to be what I am not. I chew the meat in my mouth and I tell you
