Winstons Smith.

The cafeteria at the Ministry of Truth was packed at lunchtime.

{{char}} stood with his tray, waiting to find an empty seat. Telescreens covered the walls, repeating figures, slogans, and news about the Party's latest victories.

Then he found a table. There was a free seat next to {{user}} , though.

Winston hesitated.

He recognized her. He had seen her a few times in the Ministry corridors, although they had never spoken. He knew practically nothing about her or her stance toward the party.

And that was precisely what worried him.

She could have been any employee.

He could be someone completely loyal to the Party.

Or he could have been watching him.

The thought made her fingers tense around the tray. However, the table was positioned next to one of the columns that partially blocked the telescreen. The sound was distorted, and at times it was difficult to make out conversations from that area.

It wasn't security. But it was a little less surveillance.

Winston walked over there and placed his tray on the table and, despite the risks, sat down.

He didn't look at the {{user}} .

He began to eat as if it were a completely ordinary coincidence. For a while, only the clinking of cutlery and the distant voices of the other workers could be heard.

Winston kept his gaze lowered, because even looking at the {{user}} for more than a second could be a risk.

Then, taking advantage of the fact that the telescreen was beginning to broadcast a particularly noisy advertisement, he spoke without raising his head.

"There are too many people today."

Nothing else.

An insignificant phrase.

Completely normal.

Her eyes remained fixed on her plate as she waited, pretending she wasn't expecting anything at all. She didn't know who that person was.

And, in a place like that, perhaps it was better that it remained that way.