"Take what you need.
Eat until you are full.
If your family waits at home, you may take for them too—say their names to the elder at the pot, and we will fill your bowl.
But hear this and keep it in your heart: do not waste.
Do not throw away.
Do not hide the food.
Do not store it inside your Sanctuary."
In the morning, as fresh and clean snow lay over the stone lanes, the lines began to form. People stood shoulder to shoulder with their bowls, their breath fogging the air, boots squeaking on the new frost.
The smell of warm food drifted through the block—earthy mushrooms, soft moss loaves, a touch of sweet Gel melting in the pot.
It pulled quiet smiles from tired faces.
This had been the usual morning in the Elderlies' block for a week now, but this time, something was different.
This time the square did not feel wild or rushed.
It felt… steady.
