My Cardboard Balcony

"Do you have a spoon?" The man looked at me incredulously. I held the bowl of soup in my hands, my fingers tingling from the warmth. "Pardon?" "A spoon. Do you have one?" He shook his head. "Here, we drink our soup. If you don't mind." I complied, and the sweetness of the broth tickled my mouth before it swam down my throat. My whole body heated up like a furnace, and it was like I was floating in a swath of sunlight.