Guess Who's Back, Back Again

Yes, he has returned. The crazy old man in the bookstore cafe.
He's slinking down in his chair, like before, directly across from me, like before, weirding me out, like before.
He isn't staring at me this time, because his eyes are closed. I think it is safe to assume that he is sleeping, but has this strange sleep disorder where he smiles, squints his already shut eyes, swivels his head, mouths a song, and taps his fingers along to the melody.


Okay, maybe he isn't asleep. He's lost in some strange reverie where he's... sweating to the oldies. Sweating profusely.

I kind of like the way his jowls flap when he sings. It's mesmerizing. Obey the jowls. We are one with the flapping.

Interlude

There's a creepy old man sitting across from me in the cafe at the bookstore. He's just watching me read my philosophy book, making 'huff'ing noises every few minutes, counting his (4) 1 dollar bills repeatedly, and waving his arms.




I think he's a professor.