I think not, my story is about someone else.I looked about the room, and there was no place to sit, no table free. I loathed sitting with uneducated f...rmers and their lackeys. Yet over near the wall, furthest from the fireplace and loudest commotion, was a small round table. It was the person sitting at the table that interested me most, and who is the reason I'm writing this short story. A lady of mark and obviously her maid were sitting alone, the other tables full of men ignoring them as. "Hey," I said as I rode up his driveway."Hey," he replied as he whipped through a double-play, shortstop to second to first, against the garage door. "How was the soccer game?" Two-two tie," I said. I caught his liner off the panel of the door and spun it back toward him off the same panel. "How's Kay feeling?" Leg's pretty good, I guess. Better now than when she got up this morning. I think she's downstairs now, anyway, watching TV with Jaimie."He threw the ball back at the garage door for me. She looked at him for a second and then turned and went to the counter a few feet away to add sugar and cream. Jason set out four cups and filled them, then turned and set them on the counter next to Melissa. He noticed that she was kind of looking at him as he began pouring cream into the cups. Jason figured he had nothing to lose, so he spoke. “ So how you been?” he asked. “ Pretty good,” she replied, her hazel eyes glancing over at him. “ How about you?” Jason shrugged as he began pouring. As we all walk out towards the parking lot, it just then occurred to me—I hadn't arranged a ride to the diner. FUCK. Glancing around the lot I can see only one familiar face---Parker. Fuck. I blow a loud whistle at him, and hollar “Yo dawg—how bout a ride” ? Parker grins, and looks at his parents, to which they nod approval, and me and Dustin hop in their mini-van. I instruct them the easy route to the diner, and invite them to come in as well—it would be on me. In the interest of.
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