BOOM.

she blinks in surprise. oh.

     “You are a mutant.”

he says it bluntly.

          “Oh.”

          “Yeah, no problem.”

he’s remarkably less talkative than some of her other regulars, especially the younger ones, but she doesn’t mind. 

she slides the glass back to him and con- siders leaving him well enough alone, but –

          “So –”

a quick pause.

       “No.”

sort of. kind of. he’s around, but not really here. he doesn’t have a place for himself or a solid  foundation that he could call home. but back home isn’t home, so --

    “I’m from Boston.”

he drinks the entire sprite again, pushes it forward in a silent gesture for more.

    “Good -- dog. Good doggy.”

In a dramatic show of exasperation, Tao drops his shoulders and rolls his eyes as he moves his hands to the zipper of his coat.

    “Yes.” 

he says it without pause.

✳┈║ ℍ ║┈✳ 

   “um, okay. why do trees seem suspicious       on sunny days?”

▌▏Ŧ-И ▕▐ 

            “no, it should be stopping.”

he lets go of his nose. it’s fine, save a few drops of blood on his face.

            “this would be a better situation               if i had got in a fight.”

a pause.

he looks like the type to argue if she tries to offer him something else, so she doesn’t. she’s used to that, too; not everyone is like shilah, eager to take a plate full of cheeseburgers whenever she feels like giving it. 

drumming her hands against the countertop, a quick taptaptap, she straightens.

          “Gotcha.”

he inhales the fries in about three minutes, not minding the heat down his throat. he doesn’t  touch the sprite until the plate is clean, and then he downs it in a few gulps.

staring down at the plate, he realizes what an  animal he’s been. grabbing a napkin he brushes away the crumbs and dribble.

        “So, uh, Josephine.” 

he squints at her name tag. 

leaning against the counter, she looks between the boy and the plastic menu in front of him and back again, considering. patsy is going to have her head if she ever finds out how many meals she gives away, how many dollars she knocks off. 

          “Anything you want.”

she shrugs.

he knows that’s a flat out lie. she’s got the look of a motherly type, and he was sure if he was any younger she might reach across and brush the  hair out of his face. 

reminds him of his own mother, so he doesn’t tell her that he’s not a charity case, that if five dollars was only going to get him a drink, he would let it be.

       “A sprite and fries, please.”