𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 26

Someone Else

2031

Aidan

The blob of food the lunch lady drops on my plate could either be cold oatmeal or reheated soup from yesterday, stretched with potato mash.

I balance the plate on my hand to not burn myself since the metal dish turned hot within the first seconds of the food coming in contact with it.

The lunch hall is a wide, plain room, with neon lights dangling from the ceiling every ten feet or so apart, meaning the hall is sparsely lit.

My eyes look around for an empty place to sit, which is considerably hard.

Almost everyone that has been here for a while – longer than I have – has their usual spot or formed connections fast to have one.

Groups of five or more are gathered at each table, inhabiting most of the tables in the entire hall.

At the very end, towards the exit, I spot a free table.

A girl, perhaps a few years younger than me, sits there, poking around in the food on her plate.

Hesitantly, I walk up to the table and scoot on the bench, sitting across from her.

"I don't bite," she mumbles as soon as I sit and glances up to me through her dreadlocks falling into her face, "or do I look like a dog?"

I look up from my plate, just as she does. "No?"

The girl grins mischievously. "You took your time on that answer, huh?"

A sigh escapes my lips and I focus on my food.

Suddenly, a giggle tears me out of my thoughts.

"I'm confused about two things. First: what in the absolute fuck is this food, and Two: why did you voluntarily choose to sit with me?"

I clear my voice. "There was nowhere else to sit."

She grins. "Let's make it a challenge then, I'll stop the time to see how long you can last sitting here before I annoy the absolute shit out of you."

Her eyes narrow on me, challengingly.

A grin tugs at my lips, too. "Okay."

"That was a joke, no one lasts sitting with me."

That sudden response makes me laugh. "Good one."

After a moment, the girl looks at her food again. "No, for real though, what is that?"

I shrug. "Soup, perhaps? Oatmeal?" My suggestions sound lighthearted. I don't want to know either.

She rolls her eyes. "If it's oatmeal, I swear-"

The lumpy texture of the food could suggest everything at this point.

Silence settles over us, of course I can't just expect to have a conversation after meeting two minutes ago.

"Your name is?" the girl suddenly asks, and I lean forward to hear her over the clattering of dishes and cutlery and the chatter in the lunch hall.

"Aidan. Yours?"

"Suraya. Most call me Rui though, a nickname I was given."

"Rujii," I think out loud. "I like it."

She brushes it off. "Rui. Whatever."

My nails pick at the ridges and indents in the plastic tabletop next to my cutlery, suddenly I feel nervous.

"You don't like it here much, do you?" I dare to ask, hoping she'd relate to me after my first night here.