Hunger is that relentless grouch in our stomach; it’s our body’s natural need for food. It’s that repetitive craving that will make our minds drool over even the most faintly appetizing foods. As our stomach grows with urge for food, it slowly starts to feel as though our insides are being devoured. Yet the people who are inane with opulence never know what hunger truly means.

In Philadelphia, on a dreary winter day I stood by a concession stand pondering what I wanted to eat while my mind started to drift onto other things. Glancing away from the antsy cashier who had been impatiently waiting to take my order, I looked around to see if anyone was behind me, but there was no one in sight. I turned back my focus to the cashier, “one hotdog please,” I said. “That’ll be two ninety-five.” Subconsciously, I was irritated by the high price, as I reluctantly pulled out the five-dollar bill I had in my pocket.

Walking away I tripped over some debris near a trashcan that looked as though the person who threw it away, tossed very carelessly. As I brushed my clothes off of dirt, I saw a man lying on the ground half asleep, wearing a black ragged coat, who didn’t have a penny to his name. Upon him was a crinkled cardboard sign that read, “Do you know what hunger is?” Approaching him I noticed he had been curled up knees to his chest, clutching his stomach as though he had been punched. Curiously I asked what was wrong, “What more could wrong,” he replied. While Contemplating about his sign, I reminisced of how uneager I was to hand my money to the clerk. “I haven’t eaten for two days, the only thing I have left is two strings and a handkerchief full of sorrows in my left pocket,” he said. From then on I realized how lucky I was to be born into a successful loving family.