fine dining | izzabel&georgie

I had gotten used to eating alone in the Training Center. One on hand, it was a welcome relief from the gratuitous gossip and laughter of my mother and younger sisters. On the other, I couldn’t help but recognize the context in which this relief is granted. The sand of Death’s hourglass flows over heads, invisible to us as it continues to flow until the sand stands still for 23 of us. At least the food is good, and while soufflés aren’t usually my go to for desserts, I prefer the savory cheese soufflés, it was still good. I feel like one of those characters in the storybooks who are fattened before being thrown into the stew. My thoughts continue to run about the situation I find myself in, learning to kill to survive, when the sound of rattling cutlery breaks me out of my mind.

“I hope nobody is sitting here,” a girl states as she gets comfortable on the seat in front of me. “Because I am now.”

“Go ahead” I offer as she starts to eat. It takes me a minute to place her, granted it would hard to forget Georgie Cham, or better the story she found herself in. The mayor’s daughter of District Six. he daughter of the boy who “died” in the 80th, only to find herself in the same situation without the promise of resurrection like her father. I doubt that she would like to be reminded of that fact though, and I’m proven right when she speaks again.

“Have you been in the library yet? It is so easy to get lost in there!” Georgie states voice muffled as she continues to eat her food. One would think that a mayor’s daughter would have better manners. Yet she maybe using this time as one last rebellion. I can’t say that I haven’t entertained that though myself.

“I’ve only gone past the front doors.” I admit after swallowing my own food. “It does look like a maze in there, though. Do you have a spot to recommend?”