Naomi fell into step beside me and we pushed through the lobby doors into the California morning.
The air hit clean and salt-sharp, the kind of early morning where the island hadn't fully decided to be warm yet. My stomach made a sound that was less a growl and more a formal complaint filed with HR.
I checked the time. 7:52 AM.
"We missed breakfast," I said.
"I know." Naomi took another bite of her apple, completely unbothered.
"Where did you get that."
"Grabbed it from the bowl on the common room counter on my way down."
I looked at her apple. I looked at my empty hands. I looked back at her apple.
"There's a bowl."
"There's always been a bowl."
I had walked through that lobby six times. There was a bowl of fruit on the counter next to the notice board and I had never once registered its existence. The entire time I was nearly dying of starvation on day three of my transmigration, there was a bowl of free fruit twelve feet from the elevator.
