In the Labyrinth
D
October 4
Anatoli sighed as he slid into the office. He dropped a heavy bundle of papers on the floor, then shrugged out of an even heavier backpack. Red socialist patches covered his gear.
"How was tabling?" asked Karli, tentatively, looking up from her sketchbook.
Jerry hummed softly as Rey painted Onson's nails black. Raul was watering the orchids lightly, and Bobsom dozed in the corner, curled up with his head against a bookshelf. Jass was still downstairs, selling papers.
"Well, people are properly mad about Trump chucking paper towels into the crowd," Anatoli said, unzipping the collar of his fleece jacket and fanning himself, "but it's amazing how many folks think the so-called 'resistance' is going to solve all the problems our Puerto Rican sisters and brothers are facing."
He grimaced as he said the word "resistance," and the room shuddered.
"Anatoli," said Jerry, calmly, not looking up from the diagram he was drawing.
Just that: his name.
Anatoli nodded at the unstated reminder not to bring negativity into the space. He did a quick body scan, and approached Karli.
"Can I bum some water off you?"
She smiled, happy for the request, happy to share. She produced her water bottle and handed it to him. Anatoli quenched his thirst, enjoying the taste of her lips on the mouth of the bottle.
"I'll go refill it," he said.
"That's the way," said Jerry, more to himself than to anyone, smiling as he doodled.
Anatoli left the room, careful to close the door behind him before letting out another sigh. Jerry's experiment was great, his goals greater, but did it all need to be based on such apoliticization? The mana of seven undergrads didn't seem more important than the lives of 1.5 million people left without power in the wake of Hurricane Maria. Surely there had to be some way to build each other up while still discussing the world's problems?