WITH SPOON POISED, I stared down at the food in my bowl.
“You weren’t kidding, Lauren.”
“Eat around the lumps,” she said.
I glanced across to Kyle, who stared at his own meal with the same kind of enthusiasm.
“It’s not so bad if you avoid those,” Lauren continued. “I choked on one last week.”
Delivered by Andrew, the brown slosh seemed to be a cross between porridge, stew, and quite possibly vomit. As a beggar, though, I didn’t get to choose, and knowing I’d need all my strength to get us out of there, I stuck in my spoon, and scooped some up.
Sniffing at it, I detected warmth that bordered on mugginess, pulses, and maybe something that could have been beef. My tongue tip took the first sample. Salt disguised the bland quality of the meal, as the soggy mush rolled around inside my mo
