... and has a cozy feeling even if I don't know anyone here. I stand in the queue and wait to pick up some tomato soup, coffee and a piece of bread. Further on along the queue there are two men arguing over the last cranberry pie. That takes me back to the rainy, humid , terrifying night that I ran away. My face starts to sting as I remember Jason Slapping and shaking me. The hot coffee spills over my hand making me jump back to reality, the volunteer apologizes repeatedly for burning my hand. I grab my tray and walk over to a deserted table in the corner of the room, I sit down and pick up a newspaper that is left on the chair next to me. This paper is full of greasy oil and smells like fish and chips have been eaten of it. My attention is drawn to ...

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