I bit my girlfriend.
I didn’t mean to. I just . . .
Someone grabbed me.
Then people started shouting. Pointing. Running at me.
I ran out of there. Sort of.
I tried driving away, but I couldn’t seem to turn the steering wheel the correct way. I over-steered, then under-steered. The car was going all over the place, and my left foot kept hitting the brake even though I didn’t tell it to. I stopped at the mall, and I went inside, and now I’m standing in that sunken area near the Pretzel Palace and the Dallas Cowboys Pro Shop. There used to be a fountain here, that’s why it’s a couple of steps down from the main floor of the mall, but now they shoot Santa Claus pictures here. There are a lot of chairs here. Not a lot of people, though.
I still think it would work.
I thought I knew what hunger was, what a laugh. When I was fifteen, I went without eating for almost two days because I was pissed at my parents and wanted to punish them. Scare them, I guess. I overheard my dad tell Mom that it wouldn’t last, that I wasn’t strong enough to really starve myself. He was right.
This, though. My stomach is rumbling, but not the way it does when you smell something really good, like Thanksgiving dinner.
This is deeper . . . primal. Uncontrollable.
I thought I knew what hunger was, what a lau
Wait a minute. I thought that already. That’s a repeat.
It’s hard to think. Can’t focus. I’m hungry. Need to eat. Eat and maybe I’ll look better and no one will stare at me the way they did in Best Buy and the way they are now not a lot of them but some and I can’t help myself