(Our friend David Henson returns with something best described as “experimental”–which, in his hands is always a good thing–Leila)

“In my forties, I think. A few months in. What age are you, Tim?”

“Gotta be ninety, Mike. Give or take a couple years.”

So it’s true. “Ugh. Had no idea. Since when? Can’t be easy.”

“Just a couple weeks, so who knows how long it’ll last. Anyway, glad you’re in town. I guess we can meet for breakfast. How about—”

“Pancake Palace at eight?”

“Oh…that’s a hectic area, and parking’s—”

“C’mon, Tim. I haven’t had good pancakes since I moved.” Worst pancakes in town.

“Well, I suppose.”

And that area’s even worse during the morning rush. “Meet you there at eight. By the way, how’s Martha?”

“Early thirties and insatiable if you must know.”

Perfect.

#

“Table or booth, sir?”

Pretty young for a greeter. Twelve? Thirteen? They must’ve found a loophole to let her stay on ‘til she’s an adult again. Work rules are so damn complicated. Standby HR manager for ten years and never figured them out. “Table for two.” Who’s this?

“Honey, I told you to quit pretending. Go back with your dad… Sorry, sir, my daughter likes to play grown-up.”

Whoa. A pre-morpher. “No problem. Table for two near the door so I can watch for my friend…This is good. Thanks.”

Pretty waitress. “Decaf, please, Miss.” C’mon, Tim. I know you must be moving slow right now, but—is this old codger him?

“Mom, Dad, glad we could finally get together.” Not Tim. His parents are lucky. In sync. Both look to be in their forties.

Tim, Tim, where are you? Mike wants to get this show on the—Here’s an odd couple. Wonder what their story is? He can barely reach her hand. Mother and son? A couple? Siblings? And the answer is…a couple. I thought he looked fuzzy at the edges. He surely felt that damn feeling of crawling ants for days. Exhibitionist.

Easy folks, children present. Maybe you should get a—This him? “Tim?” My God, it is. Walking like the floor hurts him. “Hey, Tim, right here…Let me help you.” Really frail. Going to be so easy.

#

“You must not be very hungry, Tim. You’ve only eaten half your stack.”

“Gotta take it slow at this age or my stomach fights back. You said you’ve never been this old?”

“Not yet. I try not to think about it. Will you go back to work when you’re younger again?”

“Probably not. Odds are I’ll never be less than seventy again. You know what they say about the stock market: ups and downs but the trend is one direction.”

Business managers. They think they’re so smart.

“You know, Mike, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’m surprised you wanted to get together after I let you go for those harassment shenanigans.”

Fuck you, Tim. “Mike doesn’t hold a grudge. Allegations, not shenanigans. You were just doing your job…You said Martha’s in her thirties?”

“Ugh. I hate cold coffee. That’s the second time you’ve asked about her, Mike.”

Cocky bastard. “Well, we went together for a year…before you stole her from me.”

Careful you don’t choke on that bite of pancake, Tim. On second thought, spare me the trouble.

“You know as well as I do that’s not what happened, Mike. I think this was a mistake.”

Uh oh. Get his trust back, or this’ll never work. “I’m sorry, Tim. I didn’t sleep well, and it’s put me on edge. Here, have some more blueberry syrup.”

“Yeah, bygones are bygones, I guess. Just don’t bring up my wife again.”

#

“Let’s cross here, Tim. Closer to your car.”

“I’d better go down to the crosswalk. I’m kinda unsteady these days. Crazy they’d have their parking lot on the other side.”

“No worries. Mike’s here.” Phew, Tim’s skin and bone. He could pop a balloon with this elbow. Poor guy. Maybe I shouldn’t—Focus, Mike. Martha. “Here we go.”

“No…cars…too fast…Wait wait wait…What are you doing, Mike? My cane!”

#

Don’t squad cars have a/c for fuck’s sake? “So that’s it, officer. I tried to catch him, but he stumbled and…and…I need…fresh air.” All this sweating’s helping sell my story.

“We have all we need, sir. Sorry about your friend.” Never imagined giving a statement to a cop whose voice is cracking with puberty.

#

Two months today. Is that enough? Three’s better. But those ants…crawling on my skin for days. Two months is enough. Has to be. Martha’s getting on with her life by now. Time for Mike to make his move. Where’s that cologne that always did the trick. Ah, here we go.

#

Lawn needs mowed. This door could be restained. Martha needs a man around the house. Martha needs Mike. Ants under my collar. C’mon, you home, Martha? Ah. “Martha! You’re…a child.” What rotten timing. “That’s okay. I’ll wait. Now give me a big kiss.”

#

“I certainly do wish to press charges, officer. This pervert nearly assaulted my granddaughter. She hasn’t even started her age-morphing yet.”

“Officer, I thought the girl was you…her…Martha. I—”

“Makes no difference, pal. A child’s a child under the law.”

“But…but…”

“You have the right to remain silent…”

Ants crawling, biting. Think, Mike, think.

(end)