As the boy sat in the outside air, his mind fixated on the thing it always had, hunger. It was true it had been two nights since he gorged himself with bread. But behind that mundane absent gnaw, was a more… Abstract hunger. One that bread never sated. So he did what he had done many times. Distract himself from it, by writing a letter.
Hey dad, mom. It’s been about a year since I left home. The world is not what I hoped it was, when I was looking out from behind bars. Nobody wants to give an afflicted work other than stealing, or worse… I wanted to do good out here, but it’s so hard to even live out here in the real world. It feels like there isn’t a place for someone like me here.
The boy paused, but not to dab a quill with ink. No such thing was needed, as the boy was not writing physically. The boy was Illiterate, after all. When he arrived at school, the teachers took one look at him, and his lack of vision. And sent him to a “Special Education” room where he was largely neglected. The place he grew up never found it very important to integrate someone like him. At least that was one thing that didn’t change now that he was out.
I did something bad a couple of nights ago. I broke into a restaurant's pantry. There was so much food there. And when I ate, I still felt hungry. So I ate more and more. I didn't want bread. But I kept on eating, hoping that it would fill the hunger. It never did... Can someone learn to live with hunger? Or was it a mistake to let me go…
The boy crumpled the imaginary letter and discarded it. There was a certain catharsis, knowing these thoughts would never leave his mind.