it's true

Saturday night at work I had a table, three people, a man and a woman on the comfy bench side and a single, uncannily tall man in the wooden chair across from them. I was reciting our specials, the words finding their way out of my mouth like some miracle, the single man looking like a writer, somehow, a dark grey tweed jacket and his legs crossed like someone who knows things, he interrupts me and asks me my name, i tell him that my name is kerry. he spells it out loud: k e r r y. i nod, yes, that is how it is spelled, his eyes light up like a match just lit and he says "fan-tas-tic" in a slow syrupy way, a way that allowed the word to live and die through it's length, i smiled, and all night my teeth knew to show, a cheshire cat grin from the inside because it was like him and i knew some secret about the world, and every single thing inside of it.