[ short story long ]
It was evident from about 37 feet away, though I am not sure exactly what it was. Maybe it was the way that he scurried from one end of the room to the other nearest my table. His ear flaps filled with red from the rush of blood being pumped from his adolescent heart. Small white foam tray, flavorless red apple, plain chicken sandwich(probably stale bread), and chocolate milk, all inheriting the nervous jitter that traveled down to his hands. Scared as shit, looking and looking all the while trying not to be looked at. He sat alone straddling the bench so as to be that much more prepared to hop out of his seat if called upon by the one or two familiar faces. He kept looking, and his ears continued to glow. The sandwich almost as if it were embarrassed to be hanging out alone on the tray disappeared into rapidly chewing mouth. His right legged danced up and down up and down up and down up and down, bite chew stop tapping foot, swallow, look around…. continue tapping. Food done, head down I tapped him on his shoulder, his small clammy hand shook mine. Hey. // Study time // Snooze // five more minutes // snooze // Even after several hours I could still taste it.
Bert Jansch - Bert Jansch - Smokey River