Chocolate Milk

I walked out of the room I was in.

I seem to be in the same corridor I was in last night. On my left was the door used to exit this unit. On my right on the same wall where I emerged from was another door that probably led to an identical room. And on the wall that was in front of me were two doors; they were both closed.

Opposite to the exit door was the end of the hallway, leading to an opening.

I walked in that direction.

Once I reached the opening, I looked to my left.

… And there he was — Mr Dead Fisheyes, still emitting the same serious vibe as always… Okay, the dead fisheyes comparison was a bit of an exaggeration. He seemed to be sitting at a kitchen table and tapping away at a laptop.

He turned his head to me. And spoke in a monotone voice.

“Good morning, Camryn.”

Oh yeah, I guess I did give him my name last night.

“M-Mr Morales… g-good morning.”

I walked towards him. The square table that he was at seemed to only fit four people, one on each side. However, there was only one other seat, and it was opposite to him. I approached that seat but did not sit in it.

I thought there would be silence between us, but Mr Morales rose from his seat.

“How are you Camryn?”

“Oh! I-I’m good, thanks.”

Same straightforward tone as always. I think he was concerned, but it was sort of hard to tell.

Mr Morales walked to a nearby counter and picked up a plate covered with another. He also brought along a cup.

His attire was different from last night. Instead of a suit worn to an office job, he was wearing black jogging pants and a white tee shirt. Was it his day off today? Because he was definitely wearing loungewear.

“Camryn, about last night. Judging from the sound coming from your stomach, you seem to have passed out due to hunger. Are you hungry? Here.”

There was still a bit of a questioned expression on my face.

Mr Morales placed the plate and cup on the table in front of me. He then went to a refrigerator and retrieved a carton and a clear bottle of a viscous brown substance, also placing them in front of me.

“It is breakfast. Please sit and eat.”

“Huh…? O-oh. Th-thanks for the food.”

I carefully lifted the plate that was on the other one.

Under it was a knife and spoon of course, but there were also… pancakes? Sir, how old do you think I am? Eh, whatever.

Then, in the bottle was… syrup? I hesitantly drizzled the brown liquid over the food in a circular pattern. I then cut off a piece with the provided knife and fork and ate it.

The taste was sweet — or at least it was to me.

However, there was another taste. That taste… It's always present whenever I eat food. I couldn’t describe it… No, I actually don’t want to describe it. Doing so would only bring up unwanted memories. The only thing I could say to describe the taste was… salty.

But it was also sweet. The sweetness surprised me, so I tensed my face a bit. Did Mr Morales see, because he reacted?

“Oh, s-sorry, do you not like it? Sorry, I was not sure of what you liked.”

“No, no, it’s good.”

“Really? That is good. Anyway, here.”

Mr Morales reached for the cup that I forgot about and poured some brown liquid from the carton into it. He passed it to me.

I took a sip of the beverage… What the heck? What is this? It’s so good! It was kind of sweet, but not to the extent of the syrup. And… I don’t know. I couldn’t describe it, but it was so refreshing to drink. And that other taste — It was still present, but it was really faint.

“Whoa… what is this?”

“Oh! I-It is chocolate milk. S-sorry if you wanted something else. Um… I can get you some water if you want.”

Chocolate milk, huh? I’ve never had it before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had chocolate. Okay, I’ll definitely look for chocolate next time when I’m out shopping.

“Oh, no, no. Actually, this is delicious! Thanks!”

“That is good. You are welcome.”

…

And with that, I finished. The whole time I ate, Mr Morales was doing work on his laptop, but he would look up to check on me every so often.

I… hope my eating habit wasn’t concerning him. Every piece I ate from the pancakes were small, and after every bite, I took a large sip of the chocolate milk — it was to the point where the carton was almost finished. It... was probably because of the other taste that plagued my mouth. Yes… an attempt to cleanse the flavour born from unpleasant memories…

I was interrupted when Mr Morales spoke.

“So, are you finished eating?”

He slid his laptop towards the edge of the table. When he spoke, he spoke formally. His face showed some expression, but it was mostly static. The tone of his voice was mostly the same.

“Yes.”

“I see… Okay, I have some questions for you. Are you okay with answering them?”

I looked down.

I knew this would happen. If something abnormal occurred, of course you would ask about it.

But the question was… should I lie or tell the truth. To be honest, I did not know.

First off, could I trust this guy? I felt like I could — but at the same time, I felt like I couldn’t. He… It felt like he didn’t really care about what I told him. Was that good or bad? Did it really matter if I lied or not? I… did not know… But anyway, these were just thoughts, and thoughts cannot physically affect anything. I’ll never discover his true intentions unless I talk.

Also… personally, I didn’t really want to tell the truth. Being honest could lead to a lot of things, including Mr Morales potentially being able to help, but… I didn’t want to. Am I… scared? Possibly. The truth… was something… I’m running from — hide from it, and don’t face it.

Six months ago… flashbacks of that time crammed my mind. It made me shudder… it made me want to hide… it made me want to stop doing anything. It… I… I… um…

I should stop. Thinking will just make me cry, and that will probably just inconvenience Mr Morales.

Besides, even if he is trustworthy, could I truly trust him?

“Y-yes… Ask anything…”

“You do not need to answer certain questions if you do not want to. Just say so.”

What? How considerate. Did he sense my hesitation?

Hm… can I really trust him?