Friends and Neighbors

It’s impossible not to smile.

“You’re being awful this morning!”

He shrugs. He’s a nice-looking man in an ordinary sort of way. Average height and shape, clean-cut, ordinary features, nice smile, short, dark hair with a big of gray that’s just beginning to thin…

We’re becoming friends, I think.   

“Dental hygienist, right?”

“Me? Right. I work for Dr. McMahon. He’s a pediatric dentist.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. He’s a great boss and the kids are adorable. I’ve worked there for five years now.”

“Good for you. It’s nice to love what you do. So you’d recommend him for my kids?”

A ten-year-old girl and a twelve-year-old boy, as I recall.

“Absolutely!”

“Great. They’re overdue. Their old dentist is in the city, close to where we used to live.”

“Oh, wow. Their mom takes them, then?”

“Nope. She’s back in Philly. Remarried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The kids and I are better off without her.”

Ouch.

“What about you? Do you love what you do?”

“I don’t know about love. I’m in investment banking. Lotta stress. Good money.”

“Long hours?”

“Sometimes. They could be longer, but I’ve learned to control it for the most part. For the kids.”

His smile has totally disappeared. My fault? He had been laughing just a few moments ago.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

​“Would you show me how sprint’s supposed to look?”