Layleen
Ray gives me a knowing look, as if I'm some kind of sandwich connoisseur, and I try to return it with an awkward smile.
"You want one?" he asks, his eyebrows lifting expectantly. "You look like you haven't eaten in days!"
He's exaggerating, of course, but the gnawing hunger in my stomach makes it feel like he's not far off. Before I can answer, he plucks a wrapped sandwich from a basket on the counter and slides it toward me, his face alight with anticipation.
Barbecue sauce and tuna.
Just thinking about the combination makes my stomach churn, but I accept the sandwich anyway, peeling back the wrapper slowly, as if delaying the inevitable might somehow improve my chances of survival.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to take a generous bite, closing my eyes to block out Ray's eager stare.
It's awful.
