Hunger

The face staring back at me looks thinner than I remembered. The cheeks sunken and eyes slipping back into their grayed sockets. 

Are the pixels unable to render my fullness? 

“Elena” 

I look away from myself. Eyes blink at me, lids lagging. Un-muted, I open my mouth and words fall out of the infected pockets between my teeth. 

My gums hadn’t bled all morning so I bite down on the raw interior of my cheek. 

I hunch over the screen until 2 pm; my teacup ready to be re-drained. I’ll grace my plate with leftover pasta, a BLT, an over-priced salad. 

Books collect dust on my windowsill, thumb sliding across the screen. Twenty minutes of false freedom flies. How long has the kettle been screaming? 

The afternoon is spent playing the keyboard and avoiding eye contact.

“How are you?”

Voiceless nods and toothless smiles, bobbing heads on a for-profit school bus. 

“How am I?” 

Orange light bounces off the school yard breezeway and into my eyes. I squint at the windows, out the windows. I wish I was the boy riding his scooter.

Dinner time. I’ll sit stagnant until my stomach bloats. 

Chapped lips licked and lit. Inhale and exhale until the hunger once again feels insatiable. 

I’ll wake up starving.