The words for this week’s contest: numb, scene, suit, wry, feral.
My take on it:
She swallowed, loving it and hating it simultaneously. She knew the others called her ‘the heifer’. Always eating.
Tears flooded down her cheeks; her sighs fogging the window she’d leaned her head against. Outside, the rain was pelting down. Umbrellas were no match for the cyclonic winds. Miserable. Everything was miserable.
But she refused to let herself reminisce. Never did any good, anyway.
One more mouthful should do it. That would be enough arsenic then.
“Come on,” she thought. “Now, Ryhanni. Let’s do this.”
Death by tiramisu. It was a fitting way to go.