Angelina noticed it on Wednesday. The boy from Class 3B was sitting at the far table by the window, quickly and furtively slipping a piece of white bread into the pocket of his school trousers.
The morning light filtered through the tall, grime-streaked windows of the school cafeteria with a dull, indifferent glare, casting long shadows across the rows of aluminum tables that awaited the chaotic rush of the midday meal. In the kitchen, where the air was eternally thick with the heavy, comforting scent of boiling potatoes, cheap vegetable … Read more