Rachel Yan (11) | STAFF REPORTER
I close my textbook and stand up. Discreetly grab the edge of the desk as I nearly lose my balance.
Looking down at my desk, the papers seem to swim before my eyes. I swallow hard and almost choke. My throat is too dry. I walk to the classroom door.
Outside, the halls are completely empty. I stumble along beside the wall, breathing hard. Accidentally fall against a locker with a loud crash.
For the last two days, I haven’t been able to eat anything. Food seemed to evaporate the moment I swallowed it. I ate while my hunger grew, unsatisfied. The last thing I had genuinely eaten was some soup from the cafeteria three days ago.
I walk through the halls mindlessly, consumed by hunger. After a minute, I find myself at the doors of the cafeteria. I push through them, finding the inside empty of students. Even the lunch ladies aren’t there.
It contains Sildenafil citrate, which viagra australia price helps treat erectile brokenness or ineptitude in men. So now, that person not only has your email address, but also has the email address of every one you http://deeprootsmag.org/2012/09/07/sovereignty-well-earned/ best prices on sildenafil forwarded the message to. Thereafter, Kamagra was approved by order generic levitra purchased this FDD and it gripped the market as a drug for erectile dysfunction and other male sexual dysfunctions. It could lead to damage viagra in uk of cartilages and bones in joints, dysfunction of joints and even disablement.The food trays are just a few meters away. I walk towards them, hoping I could steal some food without being noticed.
There are trays of pizza, pasta, cookies, and salad. But I only have eyes for the pot of soup in the middle. It has a warm orange colour, and seems to glow with a delectable golden sheen. I lean forward in hunger and longing.
I grab a bowl and ladle copious amounts of soup into it. I drink it in a rush, ignoring the uncomfortable heat. For the first time in days, I can feel the food entering and resting in my stomach.
I hear a clatter inside the kitchens, and one of the lunch ladies comes out. I recognize her as the one who had served me the soup three days ago. She looks at me in surprise.
I stand there, incredulous. “Wait!” I shout. “What did you do to the soup?”
She turns to run. “Stop!” I demand, following her. “What did you put in the soup?”