Micah rubbed his stomach, his palm pressed lightly against the fabric of his shirt as though savouring the comfort of a full meal. A lazy smile hung on his lips, his steps unhurried. The roasted chicken he had eaten still lingered on his tongue, and he felt content.
Beside him, Darcy walked with his hands loosely tucked in his pockets, still wearing Micah's jacket. His dark eyes studied the boy walking beside him. Micah looked oddly satisfied, humming under his breath in happiness. Really, what on earth was going on with Micah? Sure, the roasted chicken had been decent, better than most campus food, but compared to the luxurious meals packed neatly in the lunchboxes from earlier, it was nothing. Yet Micah acted as though it was the opposite, humming like he had just tasted heaven.
