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“For me?” I carefully climbed over Torin off the bed, so hungry I licked my lips.

He gestured at the bowl and pantomimed spooning the food.

All I could think was — thank God, there’s food, hallelujah, as he bowed out of the room.

I whispered, “Torin?”

He continued sleeping.

I felt his head, it was warm, but his breaths were coming easy — he needed food, this was certain, but he also needed sleep. I couldn’t decide what to do… which did he need more?

I was frozen with indecision, was this porridge for Torin?

Or was it for me. The monks knew he was asleep and they knew I was here. It was for me definitely. But, there were two of us here, was this to share?

I brought a very small spoonful to my mouth and ate it. It was not good, like a bland oatmeal, but I really wanted more and couldn’t think beyond: they will bring another bowl when Torin wakes up.

I swore I wasn’t going to eat it, but then it was like I blacked out and didn’t regain consciousness until I had eaten the whole bowl. I came to, licking the edges and the wooden spoon.

Then I burst into tears.

I had never felt so ashamed.

I put the bowl back on the table and just sat there looking at it, wishing I could, through force of will, make more porridge appear in it.

That porridge had been meant for Torin. I felt certain of it now, with clarity, not starving anymore. I could see that the monk’s pantomime earlier was just as likely to mean ‘spoon the porridge into your husband’s mouth since he’s close to death’s door’ as ‘here, lady, I brought some food for you.’

And I hadn’t woken Torin up.

I had eaten without him.

I sat there by his bedside thinking about all the times we had been in the opposite situation. I had been ill in bed and he had been at my bedside — he never once ate my food.

I was the worst.

I wasn’t even smart. Torin was the only person on earth in this century who would protect me and I had eaten the food he needed for fuel.

While he struggled to survive.

I was so mad at myself.

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, picked up the bowl, went to the door and looked down the corridor. It smelled a little like root vegetables maybe… could that be from the kitchen? But it was out of sight. I was in a strange place in the dark, there was no way I would be able to find my way around. I could barely see.

And it was too quiet, if there were people out there they were all silent. No hum of electricity, no murmur of voices..

Where was the kitchen? I hadn’t paid attention when we had been led to our room. I had only been paying attention to Torin, thinking I was helping him by watching him, when instead I should have been paying attention to our surroundings.

I looked up and down the corridor.

I needed to learn to pay attention.

Somewhere far off, a bell tolled once — I listened. Was it one, or was that some other signal? The toll was followed by faint chanting, coming from a distant chapel… I couldn’t make out words but the voices were low, it sounded like at least twenty men. It was comforting to hear voices, for there to be human sounds.

I returned to the room, and placed the bowl back on the table. And sat on the edge of the bed with my chin trembling, staring at the door. My only hope was that someone would come in with a second bowl before Torin found out I ate all his food.

Dude woke up, stretched, and came over to knead my thigh, looking at me, trilling his damn head off. Then he sniffed the bowl and I swear he looked at me reproachfully.

I whispered, “Dude, I ate it, I didn’t share it — what will I do?”