This is what Charlotte writes.

10.25.07

Spaghetti Os are crusting in a porcelain bowl, left out for far too long under beating sunlight. A sweet, rotten odor floats into my nose. Yesterday’s lunch. Today’s dinner. Not for me. Hanna’s coming over, and she said for me to make her something delicious. She’ll never be able to tell. If I slop on some more sauce and drown it in parmesan she’ll eat them all. “No, I’m not hungry,” I’ll say, smiling and lying. “I ate earlier.” Earlier being when I sat down yesterday and began my Spaghetti Os, optimistically dropping an entire can’s contents into my bowl, microwaving them, spearing a few with my fork and popping them into my mouth. Spitting them out when they hit my tongue, burning hot. My bowl was pushed away and left, not moving one inch until today. Soon I shall serve it to my best friend. Now saliva is mixed in with sauce. It adds…not protein…EBB. Sorry? That’s what she gets for eating here. Pfft.