In the Labyrinth
A
November 20
Sunlight filtered through Jerry's half-closed shades, casting a soft light on the orchids. Jerry's proteges sat scattered about the room. Rey was helping Onson through some Gary Snyder. Karli was drawing in a sketchbook, hunched over, earbuds in, face twisted in concentration as she worked. Anatoli held his Ruth Ozeki open with one hand, pinkie saving his place, as he peered over her shoulder, mouth open in a faint expression of wonder. Jass sat with her back to the desk, to Jerry, a chair on either side of her. She was looking down, contentment in her face. To her right, Bobsom was curled up on his side. He dozed with his face in her lap, drooling slightly. Raul's head leaned on her left shoulder.
A lull.
The students sat on brittle plastic folding chairs that afforded little in the way of comfort. They were crammed in the small room of a newer professor, some of their bodies contorted into weird positions. The room was cold, breezy. But they were cozy, warm and soft in each other's presence.
Jerry, sitting at his desk, hummed quietly, as he always did, in a low and almost imperceptible register. The orchids, lined up on the windowsill, shone faintly.
Raul stirred, sat up, stretched.
Jass's shoulder was cold, and the moment was over.
Anatoli stood and put his book in his backpack. Karli turned the page in her sketchbook, yawned, and stashed it. Rey clapped Onson on the back, then kissed him on the cheek. Jass scooped Bobsom's head into her hands, leaned over, and placed her lips on his. He responded with tongue, and the others watched. There was a brief swell in the room: Onson and Rey holding hands, Karli brushing something off her chest, Raul wrapping an arm around Anatoli's shoulders and rubbing his smooth cheek against the other boy's ear.
After the kiss, Bobsom rose slowly, sleepily.
It was time to go to class.