{"id":80,"date":"2007-10-20T20:25:10","date_gmt":"2007-10-20T20:25:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/?p=80"},"modified":"2007-10-20T20:25:10","modified_gmt":"2007-10-20T20:25:10","slug":"paragons-people-6-of-11","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/?p=80","title":{"rendered":"Paragon’s People (6 of 11)"},"content":{"rendered":"

The student stood waiting in the lunch queue at Fifth Column<\/em>; he was almost inside now. A vast hall filled to the brim with antique tables of all shapes and sizes, the actual food was sold at stalls that lined its walls. Tall, bold windows towered over the proceedings, swelling the hall with natural light. It had the overtones of a M\u00f6venpick March\u00e9<\/em> restaurant <\/span>but without the good food. The popularity had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with meeting new people. The spacious interior encouraged the caf\u00e9’s patrons to open up and fill the space with their voices.<\/p>\n

He bore his teeth at the queue, tensing his jaw, angry at the slow-moving queue. And his girlfriend hadn\u2019t shown \u2013 like she<\/em> had stood him <\/em>up. Even though he\u2019d had no intention of putting in an appearance himself, having changed his mind, he couldn\u2019t believe that she hadn\u2019t turned up. She was the one on the firing line right now, not him. If she didn\u2019t turn up in the next five minutes then the plan was off and baby cheeks was history. He didn\u2019t need her.<\/p>\n

It was with a sense of irony that the student laughed for allowing himself to be locked into a queue \u2013 the epitome of self-oppression \u2013 and dependent on someone else to turn up. So much for his own aspirations of freedom. With that, he relaxed and turned around to see his girlfriend standing behind him.<\/p>\n

\u2018Hi,\u2019 his girlfriend said. Her words were drained of emotion, like she expected little good to come from this meeting. \u2018You said we could talk at lunch, right?\u2019 She was avoiding his gaze. If he were to catch her eye, he knew that an involuntary, instinctive smile would be pulse across her face, and she would lose her temper with him for making her smile when she didn\u2019t want to smile, bastard. He focussed on her mouth instead; he didn\u2019t want a confrontation right off the bat.<\/p>\n

\u2018Yeah, I did say that. Why are you late?\u2019<\/p>\n

The queue ahead lurched forward and the student\u2019s girlfriend filled the gap that had opened up. \u2018I thought about not coming,\u2019 she said, with cutting bluntness.<\/p>\n

Part of him was excited that she\u2019d pushed back, but his ego was also bruised that she could discard him without a fight. He saw her outlined in black, blotchy ink.<\/p>\n

He cocked his head to one side, conciliatory. \u2018Well, I\u2019m glad you did come.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What\u2019s up with your head, madman?\u2019 Friendly words, but delivered in harsh monotone. Especially as she wasn\u2019t really looking at him, her busy gaze always shooting past his face as if more important events were going on around them.<\/p>\n

\u2018Trouble brewing.\u2019<\/p>\n

That pulled her in; looking straight at him, she said, \u2018What kind of trouble?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I can\u2019t explain it,\u2019 \u2013actually, I doubt you would understand the explanation,<\/em> he thought\u2013 \u2018but I see things different now. It\u2019s all messed up and I can\u2019t go on as I’ve been taught to. I feel like I’m being smothered by society, a warm pillow on my face, deadening sensation, fading the world to black.’ He paused, tasting the words in his mouth before letting them free. ‘There’s more to life than queues, suppressed tears and formal language. We live lies.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018We all want more,\u2019 the student\u2019s girlfriend answered, moving forward again as a new gap yawned open in the queue. \u2018What makes you one of God\u2019s special snowflakes?\u2019<\/p>\n

The student frowned; she\u2019d gone on the offensive. Bitchy, bitchy. Maybe he wouldn\u2019t be able to reach her if she\u2019d bolstered her defences like this. If only she\u2019d stopped listening to her friends in the herd. \u2018I wish I knew, baby cheeks. But I can\u2019t be what I\u2019ve been any more. That means… we<\/em> can\u2019t be what we\u2019ve been either.\u2019 He noticed his hangover had dissipated and his head was clear.<\/p>\n

\u2018What do you mean? Do you mean you want to split?\u2019 Her steely expression faltered, conceding fear again. The student was elated, but kept his demeanour serious; she was still frightened of losing him.<\/p>\n

\u2018It depends – you might want to come with me.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Come? Come where?\u2019 She seemed completely baffled.<\/p>\n

They reached the first stall and the student grabbed a tray, refusing to answer straight away, to build up an air of suspense. A cook, brandishing a large, metal ladle as if she were conducting an orchestra, held point on the other side of the stall; it was covered with brushed metal bowls filled to bursting with uninviting, dull-coloured salads.<\/p>\n

The cook grumbled in a tired, weary voice, \u2018Lord\u2019s rations, whaddya want?\u2019<\/p>\n

The student said to the girlfriend, \u2018Please come to a meeting with me tonight.\u2019<\/p>\n

The cook tapped a bowl that held greasy pasta with the ladle, panting with impatience. \u2018Honey, just go with the boy here so we can get on with our lives already.\u2019<\/p>\n

The student\u2019s girlfriend bit her lower lip, blinking nervously, and said, \u2018Alright.\u2019<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The student stood waiting in the lunch queue at Fifth Column; he was almost inside now. A vast hall filled to the brim with antique tables of all shapes and sizes, the actual food was sold at stalls that lined its walls. Tall, bold windows towered over the proceedings, swelling the hall with natural light. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[6],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=80"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=80"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=80"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=80"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}