Evelyn's Provocation
The dim emergency lights flickered weakly in the hallway, casting long shadows against the peeling wallpaper. The air inside the apartment complex was thick with the scent of unwashed bodies, desperation, and the faintest traces of mildew. A few residents lingered in the corridor, their faces gaunt, their eyes sunken with hunger.
Evelyn stood in the center of it all, her voice sharp as a blade.
"We're all starving, and yet he walks around like nothing's wrong," she hissed, pointing toward Karl's apartment door. "Have you seen his face? Does he look like someone who's been skipping meals? No. He's hoarding food while the rest of us suffer."
Some of the residents shifted uneasily, casting glances at one another. The idea had been whispered among them before, but no one had dared say it outright—until now.
