The Forum Marie Reyes (book series for 10 year olds txt) 📖

He wondered what was wrong with him. Sometimes, even a simple transaction felt impossible. One day, he could be charming as fuck, the next, he couldn't look anyone in the eye, couldn't hold a conversation. Thankfully, Nadia's mother was in a constant stream of consciousness, narrating every little thing that happened. It was a welcome distraction until she brought the conversation back to him.

"So how is the comedy going?" Every time she looked at him, he felt she was looking him over, judging him, weighing up his achievements, or lack of. Her X-ray vision could always tell when he'd lost a few pounds and she would try to fatten him up.

"It's fine." He could tell his go to answer wasn't going to cut it. "A bit of a struggle at the moment. Going to pick up some shifts at the coffee shop soon."

"Have some more salad dear." As if she'd read his mind, she passed him the ceramic bowl. "You know if you need a job, Miro can get you something. He's a manager now so..."

"Thank you. I'll consider it." He put some salad on his plate with the tongs, and then some rice, and of course grains tumbled all over the place and made a mess on the table. He tried to pick up the individual grains with his fingertips and put them on his side plate. His phone buzzed against the table and although he knew Nadia's mother hated people using phones at the dinner table, he just couldn't help himself.

K-meister: Look what I found. The person that messaged us left a video on another group. Click on the link.

He wondered if he could get away with clicking the link. As long as his phone was on silent. Probably a bad idea. Nadia was next to him and had a habit of looking over his shoulder. It would have to wait until he got home on the toilet. That was the perfect time, his only alone time these days.

"You should probably get in there quickly. They have vacancies at the moment, and who knows how long that might last, what with the economy the way it is."

"I need the bathroom." Aadesh slipped his phone out of his pocket and pulled his chair out.

Chapter Seventeen

MAPLE RIDGE - BRITISH COLUMBIA

Martin stood on the corner waiting, watching the mist of his breath dissipate into the ether. He couldn't believe he was doing this. His first time out of the house for weeks, and he was doing something he had never done before. This was the place, yet he couldn't bring himself to walk through the door. It felt pathetic. The people in there had it so much worse than him, but for some inexplicable reason he was frozen with fear. It's as if all his energy had been used up forcing himself to leave the house and he had none left. What a piece of shit, he thought, milling around by the entrance of the soup kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone that passed by.

The last time he had spoken more than two words to someone that wasn't a delivery man, was the day he was fired. Surely these people won't be judging him, he reasoned. It's fine. The people running the operation had probably seen it all before and there was no way that they were strangers to mental health issues, but he was here to help others, not have the busy volunteers wasting their time trying to make him feel at ease. If he left, he'd probably be doing them a favor. He was always more of a hindrance than a help lately. It was like people said, put your own oxygen mask on before helping others.

Maybe that was just an excuse to make himself feel better. He had a roof over his head, food, warmth, yet he just couldn't stop thinking of himself as a victim. This thought sent his mind spiraling down the drain as he contemplated what a waste of space he was. Just do it. Don't over think it. Just walk through the fucking door already. You're a grown man for fuck's sake.

"Are you coming in?" A woman's voice almost made him jump out of his skin and released him from his negative thoughts.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, it's just, I've not done this before, and I am a bit hesitant. I thought maybe, I'd just end up being more of a hindrance."

"Don't be silly. We can always use help. Besides, it's not exactly rocket science. You'll be fine." She had one of those sing-song voices which instantly put him at ease. She was probably used to all sorts. He followed her through the door, and now he was present in the moment, he wondered what he was even worried about. Mild agoraphobia aside, he was glad he'd taken this step.

She gave him a brief tour, and they finished up in the kitchen. Hot steam from a large saucepan billowed up into the air, and Martin could already feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "So, I'll leave you to wash your hands and put some gloves on and I'll see you in the dining room if that's okay?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Would you mind carrying this tray in with you when you come? I sprained my wrist and that one's damned heavy."

"Sure. No problem."

He squirted some runny dish detergent on his hands and turned on the faucet. Now he was alone again, his mind raced. It felt like he was just doing this one token gesture to make him feel better about himself, and then he would just go back to his old ways. He'd always considered himself a conscientious person. One of the good guys, but maybe it was all just a bullshit facade.

He was privileged with loving parents and an amazing