A walks in. It’s morning for an entirely subjective sense of morning. It’s Sunday.
“Have we eaten yet?” A asks. We haven’t seen A since last night.
Her friend S comes into the room.
“We’re hungry,” A says.
We’re making breakfast. The chef of the meal adds Israeli couscous with dried cranberries and golden raisins to the menu because A and S are vegans and won’t eat the eggs.
Soon, seven of us sit down in the library to breakfast.