The tea she poured into the water -closet sink when no one was around. The toast and boiled egg she wrapped in a piece of waxed paper and gave it to the first hungry child she passed on her way to the bakery. She didn’t in fact have to do this; she discovered she could in fact, eat. On one of her last nights at the Rabbi’s, curiosity and boredom had overcome her lingering trepidation, and she decided to ingest a small piece of bread. …….The act of eating proved useful at the bakery, as she learned to make adjustments based on taste, and to eat a pastry occasionally as others did. But it was hard not to feel each prop– the cloak and the toast and the quickly eaten pastries — as a small pang, a constant reminder of her otherness.
The Hungry Philosopher 