I place one foot before the other
I whisper to myself
It's only fifty feet, but it feels likes fifty miles
With every gaze burning through the back of my neck like a heated pan of judgement
Every person is suddenly talking about me
Every one is suddenly watching
Eying me critically
I grab a tray, get my food
The walk back is much more difficult
The whispers seem like screams
The eyes are red and raw and malicious
And when I sit back down
Everything goes back to normal
And I let out a shuddering, icy breath