Refueling

My stomach growled with unmistakable force. After hours of training, the body demanded fuel. I scaled the table leg and stood before a small ceramic saucer holding a thick heel of sourdough bread. Bracing my boots against the smooth glazed rim, I gripped the rugged edge of the crust with both hands and gave a sharp, deliberate heave. With a dry snap, a hearty chunk tore free. I exhaled, seated myself against the plate, and took a deep bite. Dense, chewy, and full of substance. The strength is already returning to my grip.