The prison he’d built for himself with bricks of opinion on a foundation of rules and principles, all held firmly together with the cement of ego, was now just a pile of rubble that left him exposed to the elements of reality.
Things had changed and he was wondering if he felt good about it or not.
Jumping down to the floor he takes a ration pack from a pile of silver foil pouches spread out on the bottom bunk. His stomach grumbles almost in protest. As if complaining about the selection of food with a groan to say “Not this crap again” and he looks at the label - “SWEET AND SOUR CHICKEN - PORTION SIZE: 1”. He hadn’t been keeping track but it suddenly felt as if he’d been eating this same flavour every day.