November 16, 2007

“You get those tickets yet?” His voice sounded sandpapery as he spoke into his cellphone. “You even know what tickets look like?”

He looked out across the airport restaurant, his body shaped as if his weight had spent its lifetime giving in to gravity, and slouched further down in the seat. He could no more make himself small than he could hide the fact that he was staring at cleavage a table away.

“It was a joke,” he growled. “Goodbye.”

His burger arrived, and he began with the fries, eating as if no one was documenting this.

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