The truth behind Claire's foul mood
The breakfast, for how fancy it was… surely didn't feel like just a normal, morning meal.
Not with the weird stares, Claire kept stealing off my face while pretending to be perfectly immersed in her toast with strawberry jam.
There wasn't really any good opportunity for me to bring up the small talk, though, with how the cook continued to create more and more pieces of art with the ingredients he had and stuffing them all over our table.
'How are we even supposed to eat all of this?' I thought, conveniently ignoring the possibility that this abundance… would soon turn into scraps that would then turn into garbage.
This kind of waste was too painful for someone like me, who, by the merit of my own choices, ended up living literally from paycheck to paycheck, doing groceries according to the discount schedule of all the nearby supermarkets and had his diet restricted not by its nutritional value but the cost to nutrition ratio.