Too small.

Too bulky.

Too squishy.

Where was the perfect one? My footsteps echoed in the deafening silence as I walked further through the darkness. More were revealed to me.

Too tall.

Too fidgety.

Too much ink.

My stomach growled unhappily. My footsteps weakened. I had been trapped for days, this was my first time back out into the world.

My first meal as a free woman. It had to be perfect.

No.

No.

No.

Was I going in a circle? They were all the same type. Tall. Squishy. Skinny. Where was the perfect one? Strong, sure feet sounded behind me. A hand caught my wrist.

“Where ya going, lovely?” I turned. Bare skin, bald, not too muscly or fat. Not too tall or skinny. Perfect.

He was my next meal.