Subjectivity of the Always by Bobbi Laurie

Without aesthetic distance, sometimes I would eat the meals in military precision. Mostly I would leave things on the tray. Happy if there was sherbet, disappointed to see a grisly piece of chicken, sliced by a nurse with a black plastic knife if I asked. Always the appearance of Jello on the tray. Always Jello, red or orange or green. On the rare days without Jello there might be chocolate pudding. Once in a while there was vanilla. Coffee or hot water with an envelope of hot chocolate mix and a slice of lemon in addition to it.



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