Page 7 - DreamingOfFood-Formatting Vs.8
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Eleven-year-old Bob sat in the
kitchen, wondering
what to do next.
He felt beads of
sweat slithering down
his forehead, which he
quickly wiped away with his
left hand. His blue-striped
pajamas were
glued to him,
partly due to the
perspiration that
was trickling along
his body. He could feel his heart racing, afraid that his
parents would come down any minute. Outside, it was
pitch dark, not even the stars seemed to glitter through
the sky. ––
1
