I ate too quickly to notice the blandness of the soup until it was almost gone. After many hours in this dank cell, its warmth was soothing. If my captors troubled themselves to feed me, they wanted me alive—at least for now.
When the food was gone, I examined the implements. The tray, the bowl, and the blunt, shallow spoon were all made of the same hard, smooth polymer. I leaned the spoon against the edge of the overturned tray and pressed my weight on it, but it wouldn’t break. Nothing to serve as a tool or weapon here.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
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