He sinks his teeth into the well-cooked meal he is fully prepared to pay for, embracing each bite as if his life depended on it. One hand is focused on his meal, and the another is dedicated to holding a page he's reading from a indistinguishable book I cannot identify. As this individual sits upon the counter alone, he never utters a word to another passerby or a helpful hand from the restaurant staff, yet he indulged himself into his own desolation, not focusing on the importance or vitality of the breathing and ever-growing population - just his own. He would frequently observe the atmosphere of the area, but no words dared to come out; his eyes did all the talking. The most upsetting aspect was his emptiness - no one sat near him, like a neglected classmate in high school during lunch period. I never saw him enter, nor did I see him leave. Either he was swift in entering and exiting, or I'm going insane.
I named him The Lonely Consumer, because he reminds me of someone from my mind.
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