The gentle breeze of the fan behind the counter caught the edges of her hair, moving the lank tips slightly. But it was enough to break my concentration.
I gave her a weak smile. Perhaps here, the inmates also served. Sort of like a prison, where some worked doing laundry... Could I trust this woman with the food? Or was it wrong to already become so paranoid?I didn't even know what Emetophobia was. Fear of... something.
I started to shuffle on with the rest of the line, then remembered the blonde's admonishment. "Juice?" I asked tentatively.
The lunch-woman nodded to the rows of prepackaged juice-boxes, and cellophane-wrapped carrot-cake, her eyes never leaving my face. I felt profoundly unsettled, but I could not tell why.
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"Loved this , looking forward to reading more"
"hhmm not sure bout dis one, but it gets better for sure."


