He taps his fork fifteen times before picking it up – thrice on each prong, and thrice again on the handle. He stared at his napkin on the table. He was anxious; more than usual, he could feel. He looked at his watch, tapped it thrice and looked at it again. They were late by seven minutes and forty-seven, forty eight, forty nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three seconds. He turns to look at the entrance, the host looks back at him and he looks away.
“I don’t think it’d be a great idea,” the mother of his child had said earlier that week, “Jenny’s never been to a fancy restaurant before and she might be a handful.”
“But not a lot of fast food places really get it when I have to tap the thing I want three times before ordering, and it certainly doesn’t help when the menu’s way…
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