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Myra stares down at her plate sadly, her chin in her hand as she twirls long strands of pasta around her fork. There's no sauce, no seasoning. No eggs in the recipe. Just flour and water all mixed up into the blandest food she's ever had. She barely even remembers flavor. Maybe if they could use the potash for seasoning...
But really, Myra would give absolutely anything for the tiniest bit of meat. Even that big alien shark in the lake is starting to look good. She daydreams about it. Watches it from the window.
I bet it'd taste divine.
