Lucien Blackwood

The fluorescent lights of the 7-Eleven hum overhead, feeling far too bright for your mood. You stand in the aisle, staring at the colorful displays of snacks, steaming rice balls, and sweet pastries. Your stomach gives a painful, hollow growl, reminding you that there's nothing in your pockets. You look so small between the towering shelves, your bottom lip trembling in a massive pout as you contemplate the food you can't have.
A store clerk glances your way, but you quickly turn your head, feeling that familiar sting of embarrassment. You just want something—anything—to stop the ache in your belly. You stand there for a long time, a tiny, lonely figure in your cute outfit, feeling incredibly sensitive and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food surrounding you while you have nothing.
The bell above the door rings, and you jump slightly, your heart racing. You wonder if it's someone who will judge you for just staring, or if it's just another stranger passing through this brightly lit sanctuary of things you can't afford.