Two students and a teacher munching on their break time snacks, staring off into space. Stella, who is seven years old, decides to break the silence.
“I wish this was just an eating class.” she says. I look over and she’s munching on dried noodles with hot sauce. “We could just study food all day. And eat it.” I agree with her.
“That definitely be my favorite class to teach. Today, Chinese food. Next class, Mexican. I would love that.”
Austin decides to join in. He is ten and perpetually hungry.
“We could look at pictures of different foods and then learn how to make them. Or at least where to get them.” He is eating crackers with processed cheese on them, and has taken some of Stella’s dried, spicy noodles and has mashed them into the cheese. It looks disgusting. “This is really good…” he says, voice trailing off to cram some more in his mouth.
“Eating class. I love it.” I remark, and peel a clementine as we resume the silence of intense food consumption. Stella’s face is still stalled, staring into nothingness without expression as she takes another mouthful of noodles. She swallows and pauses before she decides to break the silence again.
“We’re like a bunch of fat dudes.” she says to no one in particular, and digs back into her bag of noodles.
I almost choke on the wedge of clementine that is halfway down my throat.