Lunch.

I knew I should have brought a book. At least I could have been reading at this lonely table. Instead, I’m accompanied by two forks, a knife, a glass of water and a basket of bread I shouldn’t be eating. Not because I don’t want to, but because it’s the most healthy thing at this table so far. When the spaghetti makes it here, I’m not so sure anymore.

If I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure how to feel about being alone when eating lunch. Being alone in general I tough, but I’m at lunch! Where people eat and converse. I’m a warm and welcoming place that should feel relaxing, but I’m sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if eyes are on me.

But I’m the plus side: the salad takes good.

Hopefully I can come to comprehend this feeling and why it’s so perplexing and uncomfortable. Daunting even.

I hate this flaw of mine.

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