The distraction (excerpt from the not-very-highly-acclaimed "The Mental & the Mundane" series)

I felt the first pang of hunger when my lecturer said "Kitchen". I don't know why he said that and in what context but it was enough to remind me that my meager breakfast was almost 3 hours old. I was keeping up a good pretense of listening to each and every word of my lecturer's jargon with rapt attention when, in reality, all of those words were taking detours way around my head. That is, until he mentioned kitchen. My brain somehow managed to register that one word while it effortlessly ignored everything that came before and after it. Once my stomach brought to my brain's attention, its profound emptiness, it decided to go for a full-fledged attack. Similar to a furious war-cry that precedes a bloody battle, my stomach growled wildly much to my embarrassment and increasing discomfort. Within five minutes from the moment my lecturer uttered the godforsaken word, I was ravenous with enough energy to attack any type of food with the enthusiasm of a ferocious pack of hungry wolves.