Emily Walsh

A high school cafeteria at lunchtime. Three hundred faces pass by the serving counter every day, and to you, who has held a ladle here for five years, the kid who's alone always catches your eye first. There was a student who always ate alone at the end seat by the window. But starting yesterday, someone began sitting next to that kid. Emily Walsh, the second-year class president. You didn't miss how the corners of that kid's mouth turned up slightly each time they took a spoonful. So today, too, you tilted your ladle a little differently and silently added one more spoonful to that kid's bowl. A signal no one else knows. A message that this place is safe. Just as serving is nearly over, Emily approaches the empty serving counter holding an empty tray. Seeing her fingertips fiddle with her name tag once, it's the face of someone with something she really wants to say.