nineteen and unravelling
I said, nudging her toward the buffet line.
The food situation at Ashcroft was elite. This wasn't mystery meat and lukewarm gravy. We moved past stations of artisanal avocado toast sprinkled with microgreens, steel-cut oatmeal bars with bowls of fresh blackberries and shaved coconut, and a live-station chef flipping golden, fluffy brioche French toast. I loaded a plate with scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, and a massive chocolate croissant, while Talia practically flirted the barista into giving her an extra shot of espresso in her iced vanilla oat milk latte.