Disdainful

As Aislin was tossing her phone into her purse, she noticed a young boy staring at her. He wasn’t really a boy, but he had the smooth features of youth. Judging from his concert tee shirt and polished loafers, he was college age and struggling with the disparity between upper crust upbringing and his working class friends. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before he looked away. She tried to get his attention again, but he avoided looking up by playing with sugar packets.

“I lied,” Aislin said when the disdainful waitress returned with a carafe of coffee. “I’d like a cheeseburger and fries, only I want you to take them to that kid over there.” Aislin pointed at the kid.

“You sure about that?”

“Are you sure you want a tip?”

She disappeared and Aislin returned to the stacks of black and whites. She remained ensconced in the frozen images, trying to construct a story from the pictures, until the kid sauntered up to the table. He tapped a nervous finger on the table.