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I did not hear anymore after the soldiers’ slam the doors shut so that I am left alone with them. They say nothing, only stare silently ahead, their eyes hidden behind tinted glasses.
I realize the spatziers is an important thing on the agenda of your character. But for some reason I find it a little tedious reading an entire paragraph about a food and its what it tastes like and is made of.As a boy, spatziers were my favorite food; I always would find some way to scrape together a few bolts in order to buy one for my lunch when I was working with my father in the shipyard. I could already taste the sweetness of the onions and mushrooms, the smokiness of the tender strips of beef and pork, and the heat of the roasted peppers all wrapped in melting cheese and a fried bread shell. My mouth waters thinking about them. That is the first thing I will do when the cuffs come off, is go to the vendor by the shipyard and buy a spatzier with extra provolone.
‘Get up, Ulrick,’ says the officer beside me, while the others unlock the chains tethering me to the bench.
They pull me to my feet without giving me any time to stretch or prepare my stiff muscles to stand. My legs cramp and my knees buckle underneath me, causing me to fall into the arms of one of the officers. The man shoves me off and forces me to stand again, growling, ‘Stop playing around, Ulrick.’
I huff [and] return to my own thoughts, to the third thing I simply must do when I am free.
I did not hear anymore after the soldiers’ no apostrophe slam the doors shut so that I am left alone with them.
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