BUTCHERS SHOP
When I was in grade school, I normally sat on the far side of the classroom and would stare out into the hallway for long periods of time when my attention waned. Often, I’d see the lunch maids walking up and down the hall, sometimes carrying lunch supplies. A few times, I thought I was going to throw up since they wore chef coats over whatever else they were in dressed in that day And these coats would be stained and muddied up like the lunch maids had just been working at a butcher shop. I barely ever ate lunch while I attended that school. My teachers even used to ask me why and I never spoke up. How was I supposed to say I saw something that disturbing because I wasn’t paying attention to my lessons? My parents caught on to the fact that I wasn’t eating enough and used to give me a paper bag lunch, but I still wouldn’t be able to eat any of that. I’d give whatever was packed up for me away to my friends. Sometimes, they’d want to trade me for whatever food they had, but I never wanted any of that. Once I had lost my appetite, that was that.