Stale Soup

 

Stale soup

 

 Gazing at the people around me I bite my thumb at them in secret. These people around me are satisfied and contempt with the bare minimum. They wait in the seemingly infinite line never seeing the start of the line and all for a taste of some stale soup. I fix my eyes on the line and they steadily advance toward the chef who serves this soup without any complaints of the long line. The people file in a state of slumber unaware of the restaurants around them perhaps they are afraid of the unknown? I stand in this line, but desire urges me not an ample of that wretched soup. I stand in line to push and shove at people. Not to get to the soup faster but to awake them from their horrid hibernation. I cry and yell in desperation but, my cries fall upon deaf and uncaring ears. Alas I find people who are awake and yet still trying to get a taste of that trite soup. They refuse to lose their place in line, so they willingly march with the rest of them. I walk away and turn to see if anyone will follow me. Nay, to my eyes discontent they’re still idly pacing toward that damn soup. Could they not awaken for a moment to see what lies around the corner! “Let them be satisfied with quiet desperation”. I bolt from the line and run towards the buffet. It is a desolate place but the aroma of magnificent food is there although faint. Will courage lend itself so that I may douse my taste buds into the new and unknown? Finally I grab the door handle and pull. My sweaty hand makes the door handle ambiguous giving it a bizarre sense of difficulty to open. I pull with all my might and casually whisk right in.

Author's Note

Rough Draft/i wanted to work on it to clean it up a little bit but i want feedback now!!
(sorry about the grammar as always)