I made it to the locker room without further incident and grabbed my wallet out of my personal locker. Lunch was at the salad buffet place, across from the Y. The line was long, since it was a Saturday and lots of families came to eat here. Ten minutes later, I was ensconced in a booth and eating my meal while checking the news feed on my battered and bruised cell phone.
“May I share your booth?” a male voice asked.
“Sure,” I said, gesturing to the seat across from me without looking up. It happened a lot, since it always packed in here.
“Thanks,” he replied. I nodded, and kept on eating.
On the edge of my field of vision, I saw long fingers place a familiar Samsung phone on the table across from me. I looked up into familiar hazel eyes.
“Good afternoon, Pete,” he said, smiling briefly. Where did this friendlyguy come from?
“Hello. Sorry if I seemed rude. I’m just used to people desperate for a seat.” I shrugged.
“It’s fine. I’d be the last person to comment on that.”