Lunchroom

It’s the day before Christmas and the CBD is filled with lunch time shoppers. Decorations festoon the enormous Christmas trees dominating the foyers of office towers. In one building, a man in an empty lunchroom peels his orange with an old but sharp penknife.

Frank Booth is a short, slight man with a deep tan and a dislike for his fellow humans. A solitary man by nature and where possible by design, Frank always works all the way up to Christmas Day. Unmarried, his only relative far away and equally misanthropic, Frank enjoys his lonely life.

Anushka, a young graduate of proud Indian migrants enjoys her new role in the office. Today it is nearly empty with only the occasional worker occupying a desk. Like Anushka, these workers are of different cultures and religions to Frank, but like Frank they have little interest in the celebration of Christmas, religiously or otherwise.

When Anushka walks into the lunchroom and sees Frank she is reminded of her Uncle Ravi, also slight and short and always in a world of his own. Ravi has one gold tooth though, something that Anushka thinks is unlikely in the man sitting alone and ignoring her. But like her uncle, there is something about Frank that irritates Anushka. She knows that racism is not always exhibited by hate crimes and taunting. Sometimes it is just rudeness and an attempt to make her and others like her invisible.

“Merry Christmas,” Anushka says loudly.

Frank, busy removing the last piece of the orange’s skin jumps, and the knife dives deeply into the pad of his thumb.

“Christ,” Frank yells as his blood spots the orange’s flesh.

Anushka grabs paper towels from the dispenser and rushes over. Aghast, her caring nature overwhelms her anger.

Frank feels her hands pressing the towels to the deep cut. The white paper darkens instantly. His thumb stings. His lunch is ruined. A body is against his.

Frank doesn’t think he is racist. He just doesn’t like the smell that comes from the microwaves when they reheat their lunches. Why can’t they eat sandwiches and fruit like most people?

Frank and Anushka speak at the same time.

 “I’m fine. You don’t need to…” Frank says, looking at Anushka for the first time.

“I’m so sorry, I scared you and now you’re bleeding everywhere.” Anushka presses harder on the wound as Frank tries to pull away.

“You didn’t scare me but you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. That’s how these bloody things happen.”

Anushka’s anger returns. “Sneak up on you! You looked right through me when I walked in. You can’t say you didn’t know I was there.”

She lets go of Frank’s hand, throws the still unused paper towels on the table.

“Fine, look after it yourself. You’re going to need stitches.”

She strides from the lunchroom.

Frank presses the last of the towels to his wound. For the first time in a long time he feels a different sort of alone.