Peter shrugs, clearing his throat, and glances at his plate. “Makes sense to me… I suppose.” He lets out a soft sigh, rolling around a small potato.
After a second’s hesitation, he takes his fork, jabbing into the roast, and takes a bite. Tender. Juicy. Real. His eyes widen as he dives in for another bite.
Sarah stays in place. The slaves around her do the same. No one speaks. No one looks up. Every few seconds, one’s name is called. They leave the fold and return to their spot within minutes. This is no way to live. Yes, they agreed to lower suspicion, but today, a little at a time, Peter is acting more and more like them, and she is becoming more and more a slave. Her neck aches. The urge to rub it presses into her, but what will happen if she moves? Will one of the slaves do something
