The food was as bland as ever.No salt, no flavor, no joy — just the plain, soul-draining taste of boiled carbohydrates. The rice tasted like air pretending to be food; the vegetables, like they had been punished for existing. Even the egg — the egg, of all things — was flavorless, as if someone had sucked out its will to live.
Avin sat there chewing with the kind of frown that could curdle milk. His face said everything: betrayal, suffering, disappointment — the trifecta of every bad meal ever eaten. Still, he forced the rice down because his body was starving, even if his tongue wasn't on board with the decision.
Across the table, Eira and Sylas were still arguing, their voices climbing and dropping like birds that couldn't land. Avin had tuned them out completely; it was the only way to survive dinner. But even through the fog of boredom, one movement caught his attention.
Someone across the cafeteria was staring at him.
