Nothing 1

“It’s fine.”

He was mad. The channel through his hair – from repeatedly running his hands over his crown – was a telltale sign, and as he looked down it stared me in the face. He was wiping his glasses for the second time in 6 minutes. Another sign.

“If you’re annoyed, I really wish you’d just say so,” I said.

“You do not actually wish for that.”

For some reason, this amused me. As did the need he felt to correct me. As did my own to lie. I kept my mouth from smiling, but can never rein in my eyes. It would make things worse so I looked away. Down, too, through his glasses at the ghostly ketchup stain on his tie.