He shuffled along, sliding his tray down the rails, accepting the sloshes of food that came with the turkey. Slosh of potatoes, slosh of gravy, big slosh of cranberry sauce. He liked cranberry sauce a lot.

He grabbed a roll and took the first seat he saw. The guy sitting there spoke to him. He looked familiar. Bob? Bill? What the hell was his name?

He wondered idly if his brother was still alive. He hadn’t seen him in years. He shrugged.

Creed ate quickly to make his seat available. Thanksgiving was a busy day at the Scranton soup kitchen.