I caught myself staring into my lunch today. I was hungry but felt defeated with each bite. My cheese tortellini depressed the hell out of me. When we arrived in Iraq almost two weeks ago, I was excited to find little cartons of soymilk. Every kind of food you could ever want has been available. The possibilities once seemed endless. I had hoped it would never end.
"You should try the peach cobbler. I make it myself."
I looked up from my tray. Across from me sat a man with a name tag that had "Rodney" embossed on it.
Read more at Alaska Dispatch