me: give me something that i’ve never had. the waiter smiles, eyes soft with pity, one moment sir, and serves me saying, this is "being someone’s priority." it tastes like patience, like hands that stay, like messages that come first not last, a sweetness my tongue doesn’t yet know how to trust. he leaves the bill blank, says some things just don't have a price, and i sit there full, not from the meal, but from the ache of realizing what i’ve been starving for. ~shreeraj