I want a shower so badly, but there’s nothing around. The best I can do is a quick wash and my teeth in the public toilets. Sharp angles and hollow cheeks look back at me from the mirror, highlighted by the cheap strip lighting flickering overhead.
It’s like I’m a ghost. Slowly disappearing.
My feet shuffle along the floor as I walk aimlessly along different streets.
Every bar, every restaurant, every potential opportunity has already said no. What’s the point in asking again?
My steps slow as I reach a familiar sight, and my eyes glance up to the sign.
Il Piacere.
Soft Italian music echoes across the sidewalk as I pause, just for a moment, remembering the feeling from the other night.
Warmth. Happiness. Hope.
And the smell of real, well cooked, delicious food.
My stomach twists, the sudden stab taking me by surprise as my breath whooshes out of me.
I can’t remember the last time I had anything close to resembling a proper meal.
When I move my eyes to the side of the building, I spot a small entrance, and curiosity gets the better of me.
The opening leads into an alley with a dead end, and I shrink back as a door swings open a few meters down.
A man emerges, cropped blonde hair flashing in the late morning sun as he tosses a trash bag into a large red dumpster with a muscled arm.
My eyes move between him and the trash as he brushes off his hands, heading back inside.
Edging down, I stay close to the wall as my gaze darts back between the dumpster and the door. Revulsion wars with hunger, and the hunger wins out as my hand creeps up to open the lid.
It’s heavier than I expected, the black lid creaking ominously. Lifting onto my toes, my stomach churns queasily as I stare in at the bags, the unmistakable scent of rot wafting up.
But there might be something in there.
This feels like… defeat.
But my hand still reaches in, trying to grab at the closest one. It looks like the one the guy threw in. There might be something a bit fresher than the stench burning my nose.
Just… a little… more.
I haul myself up, balancing precariously as my fingers brush the top of the bag.
There.
My moment of triumph is short-lived as I tug the bag towards me and my balance tips. Desperately, I throw my hands out, but there’s nothing to latch onto as I tumble head-first into the dumpster.
The bags break my fall, but the breath knocks out of me as I lie there, gasping.
But that’s not my biggest concern.
The lid slams shut with a bang, encasing me in darkness.
My breathing speeds up as I sit up, pushing on the lid to open it.
It creaks again, but nothing happens.
My vision narrows to twin pin pricks. My harsh breathing echoes in the small space as I throw all of my meager strength against the lid.
