The idyll of the morning"s puzzle had been a deceptive overture for that afternoon. Over a lunch of black bean soup and ham sandwiches, moods began to shift. They ate quickly and talked in frantic bursts, as if the Bohemians secretly anticipated some terrific penalty should their lunch extend beyond the prescribed time. Though I had yet to grasp fully the haphazard regiment of their daily lives, I could sense that this afternoon was somehow different.
I cannot recall what day of the week it was or if these lunches fell at regular intervals or were random happenings. This was but the first of many such days I would live through on Hall B. Moods would not exactly sour, but there would be a shift, as if no one could wait to get to their own rooms and away from one another.
As the lunch dish
