Old
      Habits
     
    
   
   
    
     
      at
      the
      coffee
      shop
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Had
      he
      been
      Clark
      Gable
      smooth
     
    
   
   
    
     
      or
      Charlie
      Chaplin
      comical,
      i
      ».
     
    

    
     
      it
      might
      not
      have
      been
      so
      bad—
      :
      res
      t
      >,
     
     
      at
      least
      that
      way
      it
      would
      have
      seemed
      q
      \
     
     
      a
      movie-the
      leads,
      the
      customers
      as
      extras,
      é
      a
     
     
      the
      background
      music,
      lights,
      and
      all.
      ‘
      A
     
    
   
   
    
     
      But
      since
      his
      flannel
      shirt
      >
     
     
      was
      brain-dead
      grey,
      ea
     
     
      and
      the
      bristled
      flesh
      of
      his
      face
     
     
      the
      colour
      of
      cold
      sink
      water
     
    

    
     
      on
      its
      way
      down
      the
      drain,
     
    

    
     
      even
      a
      documentary
      was
      incredible.
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      And
      she?
      She
      was
      busy
      as
      all
      heck,
     
    

    
     
      _
      with
      coffee
      pots
      running
      on
      empty,
     
     
      and
      the
      drive-through
      backing
      up
     
     
      nine
      cars
      deep,
      and
      the
      new
      part-timer
     
     
      ladling
      soup
      slow
      as
      an
      iceberg
     
     
      melting
      at
      the
      pole.
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      She
      was
      just
      getting
      by
      to
      quitting
      time,
     
     
      then
      rushing
      home
      to
      get
      the
      dinner
      on,
     
     
      so
      I
      was
      glad
      she
      didn’t
      flinch
     
     
      but
      simply
      stared
      him
      down,
      curled
      a
      lip,
     
     
      blew
      out
      a
      little
      puff
      of
      air,
     
     
      then
      slapped
      his
      change
      upon
      the
      counter
      top.
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      And
      he?
      He
      slid
      the
      coffee
      from
      the
      glass
     
     
      and
      left
      a
      muddy
      smear,
      at
     
     
      like
      the
      smirk
      that
      spilt
      across
      his
      face
     
    

    
     
      __
      when
      he
      loudly
      cracked
      for
      us
      to
      overhear,
     
     
      “They
      don’t
      even
      say
      “no’
      any
      more,
     
     
      when
      an
      old
      fella
      asks
      them
      for
      a
      kiss.”
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Brent
      MacLaine