Daniel stood in line, his stomach empty and heavy with dread.
The all-radish meal, a dish made from the very vegetable that had mocked him all morning, felt like a cruel, almost poetic punishment.
He could feel the mocking gazes of the other workers on his back, their silent judgment as sharp as any blade.
Old Man Hemlock appeared beside him, his eyes alight with a fervent, almost religious zeal.
He grabbed a large wooden bowl and began piling it high with steaming radish slices, a look of pure bliss on his wrinkled face.
"Ah, magnificent!" Hemlock declared, his voice a reedy crackle of joy.
"Look at this spread, boy! The bounty of the garden!
The rich essence of native radish, prepared in a dozen different ways! This is what true vitality tastes like!"
He then filled a second bowl and shoved it into Daniel's hands.
"Here! Eat up! You look like a ghost with a bad case of the Mondays. This will put some fire in your belly!"
