He considers some possible ways to get food:
Steal it.
Beg for it.
Dig it out of the garbage.
Work for it.
Mug someone for money to buy it.
Mug someone who is eating something and take it from them.
None of these, however, appeal to him. He chastises himself for not wanting to work for food, but he rationalizes that his distaste is due to urgency. Working takes too long, and he is hungry right now.
As he walks into the town square, another option presents itself. A church. A word stamps itself into his brain: Sanctuary.
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