Turning my face away, I slide into my chair, feeling an odd kind of heat in my cheeks, something inexplicably close to embarrassment.
I pick up my fork and start in on my pancakes, but they don't taste like much. Nothing here tastes right. Even the simple things. Milk, eggs, sugar. They're all imposters, somehow.
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I pick up my fork and start in on my pancakes, but they don't taste like much. Nothing here tastes right. Even the simple things. Milk, eggs, sugar. They're all imposters, somehow.