Melissa had arrived late in the ration line. Surrounded by groaning, coughing and frail folks, she almost didn't hear some soldier announce that there were no rations left. Were they serious? She'd been waiting for [i]how[/i] long? She'd lost count of the hours, hours she could have spent working, and it hadn't even paid off! She could feel her fingernails digging into her palms in her way of coping with anger without lunging at a guard and getting shot. 

The message was really driven home when the line began to disperse. Melissa's heart sank. She wasn't the best at managing her rations sometimes, and this time around she suspected the remainder of her food had been stolen. The last time she ate was two days ago, and as if she needed to be reminded of this, her stomach made a very loud and disgusting sound that was unfortunately pretty common in this hellhole. 

A soldier gave Melissa a glare and tapped the barrel of his firearm in a threatening fashion before telling her in a rough voice that there was no food left and she needed to leave. She raised her hands and said loudly, "I got it, I got the point!" while backing away and then turning around to head back home. Well, this was just great. It was looking likely that she'd have to steal in order to survive.