He gulped his breakfast and left. Sometimes she hated him for just being.
The gridbell rang. It was a salesman. He insinuated she didn't have the money to buy his product. She said his merchandise stank. He left grinning but she didn't feel better.
The bell rang. A young man muttered, "Mis-grid," and disappeared.
She had gotten to the dress when she heard the door open. She eyed the hall reflector and saw Ferren, her mother's brother, slip into the cook. She dressed hastily. Ferren would order breakfast and keep the silver to turn in from his own grid for the deposit.
He was plumped up to the counter, a wooly haired man, attacking a stack of eggcakes.
"Let me have them."
He purred, taking spoon and knife from a pocket. "The government allowance is hardly sufficient for a man of my tastes. Shielded by your father's fortune as you are—"
"You could get a job." She punched coffee. She wished he would go away. He was always watching, smiling, spinning together soft words.
"And add to the work shortage?" He wagged his wooly head.