My Cardboard Balcony

I Wasn't Hungry by Belinda Roddie I wasn't hungry when I finished work and couldn't eat the meal my mother made so lovingly. I felt like such a jerk, but none of the food ever left my plate, and I excused myself to be alone, my stomach aching, throbbing like a drum with its skin pulled too tightly 'round the bone that held it all together. I knew some members of my family would worry about me, but my appetite was shot and had been for the past week. I could see how tired and weak I looked, yet if I thought too much about eating, the hunger I was wishing for would shrivel up and die.

"Lawrence!" shouted Lester. "Lawrence! We've had a breakthrough!" The fingers on the left hand of the subject - crooked and stiff - had twitched somewhat after the body had been placed on the bed. Lawrence stared. He had never detected motor responses in the specimen until now. He pushed his golden spectacles up the bridge of his long nose and wiped a rivulet of sweat threatening to escape from his forehead.