The fast guys and the pretty girls sit at a table and their laughter rises and forms a canopy above them. They talk to and about each other; the rest of the room, for them, is empty, though it is crammed and packed with others who do not glow and glisten. For the fast guys and the pretty girls, time is fat and slow and they are not. It will, they believe, always be this way. They are unfit to imagine any alternative.