The tray didnt just hit the floor. It crahed and smashed his lunch to pieaces. Serves you damn well right, I thought you were staring again.
He stood stock- still and looked down at the food. Suddenly i got up and moved towards him. I hadnt intended to, hadnt wanted to help him. I called to the women behind the counter. She closed her mouth and brough a cloth to clean up the mess. I picked up crockery, put it on the tray. There was a soppy stain on his trousers and through it you could see just how bony his knees were. Like the rest of him. All bones, dangling jacket and hanging trousers. Stopped shoulders and mile- long arms. Then he smiled at me. A wonderful smile that creased up his worn face and totally surprised me.
" Thank you"
I worked at a large publishing company and ate lunch in the canteen. I had noticed him because he stared at me. He was weird- lokking, His har was badly cut and his clthes were ancient and dull; too- short corduroys, baggy at the knees and colour- less sweaters, dotted with fluff. Often he sat alone and just picked at his food, or he read and jotted things down.
A few days after the crash, he stopped at the table. I was sharing with mark from proof reading, and asked if he might sit down. I said the seats were taken and continued eating. He apologised and took his tray off somewhere else.
" Whats your problem, leanne? Asked mark
" No problem. It just that i like to choose who i share my mealtimes with".
" A bit rough on the old chap though"
I shrugged.
It was mark who told me more about him. He had gone over to scrounge a cigarette. By the time he came back to the table, I had my hand stuck into the newspaper
Continuation of this story coming up sooon.
Part2
