Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
and he had come farther, traveled longer and over darker country, than any man who'd ever lived before. He wanted a meal at his own table, a kiss from his wife, a word from his son, and later to see some old friends and a relative or two. He didn't want to talk about the journey. He wanted to forget the immediacy, the urgency, the terror Ralphie was with her. They held onto each other as if seeking mutual support, the thirty-three-year old woman and ten-year-old boy. They looked at him, and then both moved forward, still together. He said, and- then -I'll-put-my-pack-aside jokes that spoke of terrible hunger. Ralphie stood in his arms as if his feet were still planted on the floor, and he didn't look at his father but somewhere beyond him. "I didn't grow much while you were gone, Dad, Mom says I don't eat enough." So he put him down and told himself that it would all change, that everything would loosen up just as his commanding officer, General a cool, dead bird lying still in his. He sat down on the couch, she sat down beside him—but she had hesitated. He wasn't friends which was, if anything, stronger than before. Once he could communicate this, the strangeness would disappear and the First One would again become good old Hank. It was little enough to ask for—a return to old values, old relationships, the normalcies of the backwash His mother came his Uncle Joe and Aunt Lucille came. Together with Edith, Ralphie and himself, they made six, and ate in the dining room at the big table. Before he'd become the First One, it would have been a noisy affair. His family had never been noted for a lack of ebullience, a lack of talkativeness, and Ralphie had always chosen mealtimes—especially with company present—to describe everything and anything that had happened something like, "Young for the Golden Age Center, you mean." This time she burst into tears. It shocked him. But what shocked him even more was the fact that no one looked up, commented, made any attempt to comfort looked at Hank, and Hank nodded encouragement, desperately interested in this normalcy, and Joe's voice died away. He looked down at his plate, mumbled, "Soup's getting cold," and began to eat. His hand shook a little his ruddy face was not quite as ruddy as Hank remembered it. Aunt Lucille made a few quavering statements about the Ladies' Tuesday Garden Club, and Hank looked across the table to where she sat between Joe and Mother—his wife and son bracketed him, and yet he felt alone—and said, "I've missed fooling around with the lawn and the rose irritated him with an excess of physical and verbal caresses—she barely touched his shoulder and fled. So now five of them sat at the table. The meat was served—thin, rare slices of beef, the pink blood-juice oozing warmly from the center. He cut into it and raised a forkful to his mouth, then glanced at Ralphie and said, "Looks fresh enough to have been killed in the back yard." Ralphie said, "Yeah, Dad." Aunt Lucille put down her knife and fork and murmured something to her husband. Joe cleared his throat and said Lucille was rapidly becoming a vegetarian and he guessed she was going into the living room for a while. "She'll be back for dessert, of course," he said, his laugh sounding forced. Hank looked at Edith Edith was busy with her plate. Hank looked at Ralphie Ralphie was busy with his plate. Hank looked at Joe Joe was chewing, gazing out over their heads to the kitchen. Hank looked at Lucille she was disappearing into the living room. of, that he could have smashed more than a table. Edith said, "Hank!" He said, voice hoarse, "Shut up. Go away. Let me eat alone. I'm sick of the lot of you." Mother and Joe returned a few minutes later where he sat forcing food down his throat. Mother said, "Henry dear—" He didn't answer. She began to cry, and he was glad she left the house then. He had never said She served him, and spooned out a portion for herself and Ralphie. She hesitated near his chair, and when he made no comment she called the table. They ate the trifle. Ralphie finished first and got up and said, "Hey, I promised—" anything to get away from your father." Ralphie's head dropped and he muttered, "Aw, no, Dad." Edith said, "He'll stay home, Hank. We'll spend an evening together—talking, watching TV, playing Monopoly." Ralphie said, "Gee, sure, Dad, if you want to." Hank stood up. "The question is not whether I want to. You both know I they shouldn't count on him for normal social life. He fell asleep quickly, lying there in his clothes. lighted room. "Phil and Rhona are here." He blinked at her. She smiled, and it seemed her old smile. "They're so anxious to see you, Hank. I could barely keep Phil from coming up and waking you himself. They want to go out and do the town. Please, Hank, say you will." closest friends. Perhaps this would begin his real homecoming. full of jokes. He patted Edith on the head the way he always had, and clapped Hank on the shoulder (but not the way he always had—so much more gently, almost remotely), and insisted they all drink more than was good for them as he always had. And for once, Hank was ready to go along on the drinking. For once, he matched Phil shot for shot, beer for beer. They didn't bowl very long. At ten o'clock they crossed the road to Manfred's Tavern, where Phil and the girls ordered sandwiches and coffee and Hank went right on drinking. Edith said something to him, but he merely smiled and waved his hand and gulped another ounce of nirvana. rumbling up from his chest. "You know why, folks?" Rhona said, "Did you notice Carl Braken and his wife at—" Hank said, "No, Phil, why is it the most popular place on earth?" Phil said, "Because people are—" And then he caught himself and waved his hand and muttered, "I forgot the punch line." "Because people are dying to get in," Hank said, and looked through the window, past the iron fence, into the large cemetery at the fleeting The car was filled with horrified silence when there should have been nothing but laughter, or irritation at a too-old joke. "Maybe you should let me out right here," Hank said. "I'm home—or that's what everyone seems to think. Maybe I should lie down in an open grave. Maybe that would satisfy people. Maybe that's the only way to act, like Dracula or another monster from the movies." Edith said, "Oh, Hank, don't, don't!" little time. Because it's so strange, Hank. Because it's so frightening. I should have told you that the moment you walked in. I think I've hurt you terribly, we've all hurt you terribly, by trying to hide that we're "I'm going to stay in the guest room," he said, "for as long as necessary. For good if need be." "How could it be for good? How, Hank?" She came to him and touched his face with her lips, and he was satisfied. Later, half asleep, he heard a dog howling, and remembered stories of how they announced death and the presence of monsters. He shivered and pulled the covers closer to him and luxuriated in being safe in his own home.

<question>:
Why does Hank want to eat alone?

<options>:
A Aunt Lucille won't shut up about the Ladies' Garden Club.
B His family is not treating him like a normal person. Hank just wants to feel normal.
C His family is talking too loudly at dinner, and there are too many people in the room. Hank is experiencing sensory overload.
D His family was watching him eat like an animal in a zoo. Hank just wants to feel normal.

<answer>:

B