Refuge

As I step into the student life center, I leave behind the biting wind and uncomfortable rain. The climate controlled building envelops me in warm air. Andrew and I saunter over to the cafeteria, where a warm breakfast awaits us. I grab my plastic green tray and make my way towards the tater tots and bacon. There is no vigilant cafeteria staff member to serve me so I go ahead and grab my own tots and bacon. Something seems to be missing from this meal.

After acquiring the somewhat warm food it’s time to conquer the drink machines. I hold my tray out in front of me as I sheepishly make my way toward the drinks only to find out that many people have conquered it before me and there is no chocolate milk, yet another thing missing from my meal.

Next it’s time to find a table to sit down at. I survey the prospects. They all look the same, brown with a fake wood grain on top of them. Most of the tables are empty, except for three. A cafeteria staff member sits at the far end alone, almost as if she is sitting at the head of a table keeping all her children in check. My searching eyes settle on one table with a few people sitting already. As I sit they start talking about papers and the inevitable procrastination. I nod in agreement as I eat my bacon and tots. Small talk seems to be the nature of breakfast today, no one wants to think about philosophical or theological claims this early.

My bleary eyes notice a person sitting by himself a few tables down. He seems lonely almost as if he is waiting for something. After a few bites his eyes leave his food and drift around the cafeteria, just as one of these moments happen a few of his good friends sit down with him and start their own small talk.
Andrew finally joins me; with his edible breakfast treasures. For some unknown reason he uses chopsticks to eat his breakfast. I comment on the intriguing choice of cutlery. He looks at me and stabs a strawberry; lifting it to his mouth he unveils some watermelon. The conversation changes to how this stabbing action is not encouraged where they actually use chop sticks. Somehow the conversation goes from chop sticks to the German language to the Russian language. The connection between chop sticks and German evades me even as I try to draw the connection.

I can’t help but notice that the majority of people at the table have glasses. It strikes me as interesting that glasses used to be considered unfashionable but now are just an accessory to some people.

If not for the giant windows the giant room where I now sit would be incredibly drab. There seems to be a common theme of brown amongst everything in the cafeteria. The tables, chairs, floor, walls, ceiling and even the leaves outside are brown. The dark, cloudy sky seems gives me a sense of happiness, as if even the overcast autumn sky can inspire within me some sort of creativity.

Almost everyone leaves at the same time, tipping their cups over in preparation for putting their trays away. They leave Andrew, a guy I don’t know and me sitting with empty plates. The small talk continues on a while between the three of us until it is time to go back to class. I tip my cups in a sort of goodbye to my breakfast peers and place my tray among the rest of the trays. I step outside and make my way through the bitingly cold rain and the uncomfortable wind.