Seventh

I tear through the meal, hardly chewing and barely tasting. I feel like I could have choked at the end if I didn't wash it all down with my portion of milk. I take a long, slow breath in. I feel my lungs expand to the point where they can't hold any more oxygen and enjoy a long, controlled exhale; my moment of peace. I collect my tray and scurry across the row so as not to block anyone's view of the grainy black and white film from an long begotten era. I dump the tray with the horrid dessert still sitting in place and make my way to the back door to return to my labors. It'll be short lunches for a month of two, I have some time to make up.

I shuffle down the corridors back to the containment area and stare dreamily at the entrance hatch while I get dressed for the remainder of my day. I've got one hand on the handle when the fat security guard leaning against the opposite wall struggles against gravity and then waddles down the corridor. One set of footsteps went down the corridor, but two sets were returning. I don't enter the sewer until the guard returns, dragging a fresh faced young man with him. I hold back a gasp, he looks like he just started having enough to shave everyday. The young man studies the floor intently, like there are bricks attached to his forehead. First day. Everyone looks the same.

Within a few minutes, we look like we could be running a Father/Son plumbing outfit. His gaze finally lifts up from off the floor and he stares to me with a much understood sadness in his expression. I don't smile, that's not what he needs right now. I lock my eyes with his and nod solemnly. He exhales hard, we put on our rebreathers, and enter the sewer.