I have had pretty regular mealtimes all my life, basically because of school. Even when I changed schools the breaks more or less coincided. But here it’s agony.
Not that their break times are so out of the ordinary. It’s just that we may or may not always get enough time to eat in them. The professors think nothing of taking an extra ten minutes and giving us exactly five clock minutes as a break at 9 in the morning. Which means that by 12, my stomach is calling me stuff that would make a sailor blush. And I am just slightly toning it down as I think of the professor in my mind.
This horrible situation is made even worse by the absolutely delicious smells that pervade the classroom at that time.
I’m sure somebody around me just opened a bag of popcorn. Or potato chips. Oh my god, I’m dying here, I don’t care if I don’t know that person, I’m going to just go there and beg for one. Or two. Or twelve. I turn around. The geeks around me are all fixated on the blackboard. Who the hell is eating that delicious food when I’m starving? I look sideways. Everyone is either writing or listening. I turn to my best friend who sits beside me.
“Who’s eating popcorn?”
“Can’t you smell it? Somebody’s eating popcorn! Do you think I should ask for some?”
“I can’t smell anything! Seriously, do you think somebody could actually eat something in this class without getting thrown out? Now stop twisting and turning and stop talking to me! If the professor spots you, you’re in big trouble.”
I bury my head in my notebook. Wait, can’t anybody else smell it? AM I IMAGINING THINGS? My stomach pouts at me. I will myself through the next hour, thinking of pizza and chips and popcorn. If the professor asks me a question there is no way I would be able to even tell what topic we’re on.
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