It's just past noon at my favorite deli, my preferred spot because of Tina, the cute waitress. I am pretending to read a book while I watch her work. To the customer in line, she says:

What can I getcha?

So, I think to myself, well, here is a short list:

One of your strands of hair, the ones that get in your eyes when you are really busy, the ones you blow out of the way with a well aimed breath.

One of your bracelets, the 10 or so jingling around your wrists as you swirl dishes and cups. It seems you add a couple new ones every day. Enough to share.

One of your hair clips, shiny and neon coloured. I know they aren't battery powered, but they catch the overhead light and act like sparks around your forehead when you zip around the counter.

A laugh, like the one you share with your older co-worker. She whispers dirty jokes she doesn't think the customers can hear and you always close your eyes and give a loud HA sound when you laugh. Maybe I'll take a couple of those.

A grape lollipop. You know the ones. The ones you hide in your apron for any child younger than 10 and older than 80. The supply appears to be limitless, if well concealed.

A serious heart to heart conversation. No, I've never seen you have one, but there's always a first time.

Yes, that's what I want. And I'll have it here, if that's ok.

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