It's not an unfamiliar feeling he's staring against. But he locks up, as though whatever he's dwelling on is catching in his throat and refusing to come any further.]
I. Um.
[...
He doesn't feel up for food, and at the same time, it feels like his body could rip itself open and devour the whole room. The longer the silence sits, the worse the feeling gets.
So he awkwardly clears his throat, fork toying at another meatball.]
no subject
...
[He stops eating.
It's not an unfamiliar feeling he's staring against. But he locks up, as though whatever he's dwelling on is catching in his throat and refusing to come any further.]
I. Um.
[...
He doesn't feel up for food, and at the same time, it feels like his body could rip itself open and devour the whole room. The longer the silence sits, the worse the feeling gets.
So he awkwardly clears his throat, fork toying at another meatball.]
Sorry. Not now. Not here.
But... some other time. Maybe.