Chapter 1 - Help wanted

A dull headache temporarily distracts you from the ache in your stomach. Life hasn't gotten any easier. Your fridge only grows emptier with each passing day. Empty like your stomach. The glow of a computer screen lights up your face, the only light you've allowed yourself in the dingy little apartment. *Click click* your computer mouse helps you scour the employment ads. It feels difficult to focus when you're so hungry. A cramp is starting to form in your hand from all this pointless clicking.

You reply to one last ad; you don't entirely understand what it is for. [Kitchen help wanted! Very low pay. Meals included! Tastings! No experience necessary! Start working immediately! Bring your appetite.] You don't have many options at this point, you have been replying to every help wanted ad that you come across. It seems no one wants to hire you. "Bring my appetite? That's all I've got to offer." You grumble under your breath, empty cupboards are the only things to hear your low spoken complaints. Turning off the computer removes the last of the light reflecting off your weary face. You don't bother flicking any lights on, straight to bed you go. Your head hitting the pillow is the first relief of the day. You can't feel the ache of hunger when you're asleep. (At least that's what you tell yourself.) Staring up at the dark ceiling you will your mind to go empty, to stop thinking about the last egg in your fridge that you'll savor for breakfast. Salt, pepper, a few drops of hot sauce to make your tongue tingle. Trying to enjoy every morsel of that pathetic breakfast is all you can think about. Breakfast feels so far away. Hunger consumes your thoughts; you've failed to clear your mind. When sleep finally takes you, your dreams are haunted by food just out of reach. Almost as if you can smell it, it seems so real. Imagination can be a cruel thing. Just as you grab a plate and sit down *Poof!* Gone are the tantalizing smells of delectable confections and carbs, instead you smell the dust of your apartment.

Forcing your eyes open you have to decide between checking your emails or making that puny excuse of a breakfast. Optimism gets the best of you, staring down the loading circle on your screen- you are greeted by exactly one email. It appears the confusing kitchen listing has decided to give you a chance. The instructions say where and when to show up. Nothing else? "I guess I don't need to bring anything." You say, while pondering how safe this actually is. It seems very suspicious they didn't want to interview you first. Maybe the job is that easy?

You have more energy running through your veins; fueled by the excitement from this one vague email. Finally someone is giving you a chance. The cold egg feels so small in your hand, you try not to think about how there is no way this will even begin to fill your stomach up. *Crack* *Sizzle* *Flip* It took more time to cook than consume. The empty plate rests in the sink, for now you must get ready. The job awaits.

With a newfound hope you set out a simple brown dress shirt and causal jeans. Nothing about this listing screams upscale, quite frankly you don't have a lot of options even if it did. You decide against a tie, really they should have given some example of a dress code if they cared about your outfit. Still, you want to look presentable. Tucking in your shirt makes you feel a twinge of insecurity. Your muscles no longer fill out the sleeves. The fabric seems to be hanging off your frame, you can't remember the last time you had a proper meal.
"Thank fuck this mysterious listing said meals are included." With one last look in the mirror at the stranger you've shrunk into, you start walking towards the address they had provided. Your growling stomach encouraging you to do your best, earn a paycheck. "Don't screw this up."