Oh but the smells. The textures. His stomach gurgled again and he closed his eyes. Then, as if he were lowering a box filled with iron weights, he put the spoon back down on his plate.
Zorn elbowed him and, through a mouth filled with food, said, “Topher this is really good you should eat it.”
Topher tried to ignore him. He inspected the food. The steak was too brown, the corn too yellow, the Jell-O too neon. He poked at a chunk of chicken floating in sauce the color of red crayons.
Zorn swallowed and said, “How could you not be hungry?”
Topher drove his peas around the plate and pushed the tray away.
“Don’t eat it, Zorn,” he said.
“Are you crazy? Look at all of this.” He cut off a hunk of chicken and put it in his mouth. “You’re crazy.”
“Shawn told me not to. That and the meds. ‘D
