The man sitting across from me in the waiting room had a thick, bushy mustache. He was talking with the lady sitting next to him. I couldn’t make out what they were saying but it was the cookie crumbs that had affixed themselves to his mustache that had caught my attention. They were bobbing up and down as he spoke. I kept waiting for them to fall, but they didn’t, and the lady didn’t bother to tell him. It was mesmerizing.
I knew they were cookie crumbs because of the plate of cookies on the center table. Every now and then the lady he was talking with would look away. I think she was trying not to laugh, as was I.
There comes a time when it is too late to mention something. This conversation had been going on now for some time, so I could see why she didn’t mention it at this point. It’s like talking with someone for a while and for some reason you can’t remember their name. It becomes too late to say, “What was your name again?”
The office door
opened and the person looking at all of us said, “Susan Moore?” The lady stood up and went into the
office. The bushy mustache guy, the
moment she left, reached over and took another cookie. I saw this as my opportunity to inform him of
his appearance. I looked at him and
brushed my upper lip with my index finger, hoping he’d get the message. He didn’t.
He just smiled and said, “Yes, it is a fine mustache.”
At this point, he was
on his own.
No comments:
Post a Comment