1:05 pm. The canteen. Class at 1:30.

Rush hour. Steam, noise, elbows. Without thinking, you do two things. You grab a plate off the tower of steel plates, the top one, still warm from the wash. Then you join the ticket line at the counter, right at the back, behind everyone who beat you here.

Twenty-five minutes to eat. The line is long. Every second of order matters.