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.