Floyd held many things in the palm of his hand. Having a hand much broader than the average hamburger eating city gnome gave him a certain edge when it came to opportunity. He could not hold the whole world in his hands, but he could maintain a kosher pickle, half of an apple, a tri-fold wallet, a small snow globe and seventy-eight cents without much trouble.

Floyd ate regularly. It was the one aspect of his life about which he was proud. His ability to relate to others was an aspect of his personality he felt uncomfortable with. In school they called him shy. In the workplace they called him quiet. At the local library they called him withdrawn. His psychologist never formed much of an opinion because she rarely even noticed Floyd was in the room.

Today was a Wednesday. On Tuesday nights Floyd watched television and debated himself on the topic of whether or not he liked Wednesdays. The debate remained unsettled.

This Wednesday found Floyd in Bob's Burger Barn, his usual stop for lunchbreak nourishment. Before him stood a stack of steak fries, a half pound hamburger with ketchup and four pickles. He admired the meal and plotted his method of attack. Would he first consume the fries? Would the hamburger suffer three deep bites before Floyd moved on to one of the pickles?

Later on he would find out her name was Mindy.

She was rushing through the restaurant, tripping over her low heels and dumping her purse onto the floor. Her lipstick, a dark red color, popped out of the purse and skittered across the floor. The lipstick rolled its way towards Floyd and gently jammed itself between his loafer and the tile floor.

Floyd stared down at his feet. Mindy approached him quietly and stood at the edge of the table. She mumbled and stuttered unintelligibly, her fingers and eyes twitching as she attempted to alert Floyd to the fact that her lipstick was a prisoner of his shoe. Floyd looked back at her, his lip trembling as words struggled to form behind it.

"Would it be okay if I sat here with you? I usually come here at one o'clock, but the receptionist at work is out sick and I have to cover for her so I came early. I don't mean to inconvenience you or anything. There is just something I like about sitting at this table. You can see the pigeons from here."

Floyd thought for a moment and chose his words carefully. "Yes, I like pigeons too."

"I usually sit on this side. The opposite of you. Isn't that kind of weird? Can I have my lipstick? I'm sorry I'm so clumsy."

Floyd smiled nervously and bent down to pick up the lipstick. He handed it to Mindy and took a firm grasp of his hamburger with both hands. "I have to go back to work soon."

"Me too, but I could change my lunch break to noon and maybe we could share this table again. I like company."

"Yes, I like pigeons too."

He is sitting on a sofa chair

she is walking by
then walking back

He is trying to study for a test
but not succeeding because she is in the corner of his eye
even when she's not

she is sitting next to him,
on a chair parallel to his
slipping off her backpack and
her shoes,

as if she were at home and they were
old friends, familiar and comfortable
close enough that they shared spaces,
as some people do

intimate, as though they had done this before
as if they emptied their pockets
on the same table
all the time

He wonders if he should say how unusual it feels,
at least for him, but
her wink unnerves him

and he doesn't say a word
even when she puts her sock feet
on his lap

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