Semi-Daily Scribbles

Highly intelligent, but with an attention span the size of a gnat, Gary was an outside looking in kind of guy. It had always been tough for Gary to explain why complex concepts were easy to understand, and simple tasks, like buttoning a shirt, made his head implode. At the age of six, Gary could correctly complete The New York Times Crossword Puzzle in under five minutes. At the age of 36, Gary couldn't read a bus schedule. He could read, of course, but comings and goings and whether or not any of it involved a bus was not kids' stuff. But one day, when Gary got on the wrong bus (and yes, wrong is open to interpretation), a happy accident happened. Gary ended up in a neighborhood he'd never been to before, although a hazy, purple streak in the late afternoon sky looked mighty familiar. Gary realized, as his stomach rumbled and cramped, he'd forgotten to eat and walked up the street toward the intersection. And then there she was, waiting for the light to change. The girl in his dreams. The one he wasn't supposed to talk about. Gary gave her a three second start off the curb, and then followed her for two blocks, where she turned the corner and entered, what seemed to him, a place that sold chicken. Gary took a deep breath and began to count to one hundred. He always woke up when he got to this part.