'A' to 'Z' Rarl

C → Candy

Watching him eat was disgusting. He acted as though someone was going to take the food from him, tearing into the barbecue chicken like it was his first meal in weeks. His sloppy eating didn't stop me from sitting across from him, though.

Everyone was gathered outside for one of our cook outs, sitting at picnic tables and in lawn chairs, chatting happily. At first, Carl's group seemed annoyed by the idea, but upon learning that we had actual, cooked meat, courtesy of the few live stock we had, they more than happily agreed to attend.

Carl had been sitting alone when I set my plate down across from him. His own plate was piled with food, enough to feed three men, and as he noticed me, he stopped stuffing his face out of what looked like embarrassment.

"Hungry?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. He swallows his mouthful with difficultly, eyes downcast on his plate.

"Fuck off."

He seemed so angry, all the time. I'd only spoken to him a few times since he caught me following him, and each time, he either blew me off or acted hostile, telling me to leave him alone or just not acknowledging me at all.

I tap the wood of the small table, contemplating my next move, staring down at my food. Baked beans, chicken, and flat bread. For me, it was an average meal, but for Carl, It seemed to be fit for gods. It made me sad. Then, an idea popped into my head.

Out of my pocket, I pull a candy bar that I'd snatched from the storage, watching Carl as I did so. His eyes light up, and he stops mid chew, eyes trained on the candy.

Of course, he must not have had sweets in a long time; there had to have been a lack of them outside the walls. A rarity, at best.

I open the candy bar, snapping it in two before offering him the larger of the pieces.

He takes it slowly, as if waiting for me to snatch it back and laugh in his face, but of course, I don't. Once it's safe in his possession, he bites into it as messily as he'd done the chicken, mumbling a thanks.

I just nod.