KIOSK 62
6:37a.m. / 0 calories A late 2000s song I don’t remember the name of blares from the plastic alarm clock plugged in across my room. Before the first chorus hits, I’m climbing out of bed and moving the clock’s switch three ticks to the right. It’s still dark outside. I hope my car doesn’t have too much ice to scrape off.
8:14a.m. / 0 calories “This is Grace, how can I help you?”
I miss the first few moments of what the person on the other end
says, preoccupied with the unfamiliar tone of my own customer service voice. The short familiar ding of an email notification lets me know that someone brought muffins for the office.
I peek to my left and through the crack below the staff kitchen
door. The lights are on. Better not risk it.
10:35a.m. / 0 calories I step to the side of the dining hall entrance, pulling out my phone and feigning interest in my lock screen. I’d walked in with such conviction, dammit. Less than forty feet ahead of me are perfectly average breakfast sandwiches. But $3.81 is probably too much to spend on my breakfast, especially when I could’ve grabbed something at home if I’d practiced basic foresight. And what if I want lunch later? If the hunger hasn’t passed by the time my next class is over, I’ll get something then. Probably. Maybe.
On the walk to class, I pull out the squished emergency granola
bar I’d stowed in my backpack and gag at the taste.
12:12p.m. / 180 calories / Wait, how many calories are in a mint? It occurs to me that the question, “Do I deserve to eat lunch today?” would make my survivalist ancestors ashamed of me. And yet.
5:35p.m. / 180 calories Guilt seeps through my weighted blanket, but I’m just too tired to sit up. The gentle tink tink tink of keys hitting ceramic makes me clench, and I anticipate the short knock on my bedroom door before it comes.
“Hey Gracie, how was your day?”
“It was long. How about yours?”
“Sounds like we had the same day. I’m gonna make your brother
some dinner, you want anything?”
10
“Yeah, same as him.”
