Doing Just Well Enough

“Here, got you something,” he said, pulling a handful of curled at the edges, folded over, torn out pages, and sliding them across to the other man, who moved his empty teacup to the side and began unfolding, and straightening the sheets.

“What’s this?”

“Some crossword puzzles, you said you liked that kind of thing.”

“I did?”

The two of them sat there, letting the quiet close in. The first stretched.

“Guess I better make dinner.”

“I had soup, don’t worry about it.”

The first man walked quickly into the kitchen and pulled the smoking, scalded pot from the stovetop.

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