The Hunger
Suzanne watched the conveyor belt, spots of sweat prickling her brow. Fingers digging into the edge of the countertop, she shifted her weight on the uncomfortable stool. Her left bum cheek was falling asleep sleep, the creep of pins-and-needles slowly chasing down her thigh.
There was a run in her tights and the strap of her bra was twisted under the flattened cotton of her wrinkled blouse and the heavy weight of her once pristine suit jacket. Her feet ached abominably from long hours in leather heels and she was sticky and flustered from a long day in transit.
But none of that mattered. There was only one thing on her mind.
She had to have it. There was no alternative. No second choice. No consolation prize that could console her should she lose out.
The conveyor belt rumbled around on its loop, littered with dozens upon dozens of plastic bubbles, each containing some culinary wonder or another.
A bald man in a pink shirt deposited his bulk onto a stool three down from Suzanne. Her hackles immediately went up. The conveyor belt would bring her prize around to him first. He’d better not think about laying his grubby hands on her bubble.
If he did…
If he did she’d stab him in the eye. She had the means. She had the will.
Further down the the counter, sitting around the corner was a gaggle of young backpackers. They laughed and pointed as bubble after bubble passed them by. Suzanne assessed them as a threat and deemed them an irrelevance. The conveyor belt would bring the prize to her long before any of those idiots could snatch it away.
At her back an airport announcer droned on and on, delivery some dire warning or another, announcing final boarding for this or that flight. Suzanne did not care if she missed her boarding call; she would claim her prize.
There! There it was, so close and yet so far. Suzanne’s fingers flexed loose of the counter, stretching, stretching…
A triple serving of onigiri and plate of California rolls bobbed by under her nose, unobserved and unclaimed. Suzanne only had eyes for that one bubble, out of place and unexpected amid the sushi and sashimi.
Triple layers, moist golden brown sponge, a dusting of confectioner’s sugar on top of the generous heaping of icing frosting the cake slice.
Suzanne lunged, she grabbed, she claimed. She popped the lid and tossed it aside. Wrapping her arms around the plate she looked her left, at baldy, and then her right at the backpackers.
Ha! she thought. Mine. It’s all mine.
Coffee walnut cake at an airport conveyor belt sushi restaurant. Suzanne could hardly believe her luck!
Fini
Hi! If you enjoyed this little snatch of story and would like to read more of my work, you can find my novel-in-progress The Gods Own at Inkitt and Wattpad. I update every Thursday with extracts posted to my blog Aldlis Chronicles as well.
Image from Pixabay free images
ALDLIS CHRONICLES 