She patted her hair.  He was here, like clockwork. 

Every Monday morning. 

He always bought the same thing, the latest book of crossword puzzles.  It amazed her – he seemed to have a spring in his step before he reached her kiosk, smiling at her as he handed her “the usual”, but each time he paid and turned towards his office building, his shoulders sagged, then straightened, and his gait became very deliberate, as if trying to delay the inevitable.

He’d brought a young girl with him once, petulant and stand-offish.  She’d assumed it was his daughter.

Figures.  A good looking hard working man like that…. Always gay or taken.  Then again, he could be divorced.  She checked her hair in the mirror again and quickly reapplied her lipstick. 

You never know.  

He smiled as he saw her wreck of a van pull up.  Every Tuesday and Friday, like clockwork.  He noted the scowl on her face today and frowned with concern.  Must have been a rough day. 

His eyes lit up as he saw the new shipment of silver plated hip flasks.  They hadn’t been entered into inventory yet….

“The usual?” he asked as she approached with the two bottles, the same every time.  One vodka, one rum.

She seemed to come out of her funk for a moment and smiled at him.  It changed her entire face – her eyes would sparkle and he would lose himself in the sky blue, imagining them at a beach with the sun shining through her red tresses….

“Yeah – rough week.” 

“Hey, good news for you.  Part of a promotion, if you, uh, if you spend more than, uh, $50 in a 10 day period.”  He can’t believe he’s stammering like a prepubescent teen as he hands her the flask.  His fingers brush hers as she grasps it and he’s undone.

“Wow – cool.  Thanks man!”  She beams at him, her eyes sparkling and he notes with a happy sigh the bounce in her step as he leaves his store.  

See ya Tuesday, beautiful.  Have a good weekend.

Manure. Who ever would have thought she would fall in love over manure? Life was just too weird sometimes...

He never spoke, instead stood behind Farmer Schrute as he inspected each load of the odoriferous product. She shuddered as he dug his hands deep into the piles, organic remnants clinging to the hairs of his arms, the pungent smell wafting through the air.

She'd struggle to control her grimace, and her eyes always seemed to find his. He was so silent, always watching, waiting, such a sense of calm behind those pools of brown. Almost like he was waiting... but for what?

"Local Jersey cows, huh? Yeah, this is the good stuff. Do you have the certification?"  The abrasive voice jarred her back to the business at hand. 

She watched as her father haggled with the ornery farmer, then returned her gaze to his, wondering about his life, why he never spoke, why he cut his beard just so, where he lived, how he tolerated the domineering attitude of the four-eyed farmer...

She sighed as she heard the ring of the register, their business was done for yet another season, he'd be leaving her again. Manure....

Maybe she should work more beets into her diet....

All she ever did was hold him. Sometimes they would talk - he'd tell her about his past. He'd done so much living.

She'd been wary of him the first time he came wandering up her street. A couple of the girls had looked him up and down and turned away with disdain. It was true; he wasn't a hot one - meaning he looked like he didn't have two pennies to rub together.

There was something in his eyes, though, when he approached her with a small smile.

"Got some time for an old man, miss?"

It had been a slow couple of days, that was the only reason she'd even replied back.

"Got some money for that time, Mister?"

"I do."

She'd been shocked the first time. He didn't even want her to get undressed. They just lay together for an hour, him spooning her from behind in that seedy hotel room. He'd only asked that she leave the lights off, but at the end of the hour when she'd faced him she could have sworn she could see the evidence of tear tracks running down his face. He'd promptly paid up and she wondered if she would ever run into him again. It was the easiest $50 she'd made in a while.

The next time he'd brought a tiny bouquet of purple and white flowers.

"For you, m'lady," he'd said with a smile. Again, they'd retreated to the hotel room and laid together in silence. For some reason she wasn't afraid of him, and she actually allowed herself to relax. She was taken off guard when he'd asked her how such a pretty young thing ended up on the streets and she answered honestly, shocking even herself.

After that she'd see him every few weeks, smiling as she saw his gray haired head coming her way. He'd hold her in the dark and they would talk. Mostly she would answer his questions, but every once in a while he would regale her with a tale from his past - concerts, road trips, his friends who had since passed on. She sometimes wondered about the veracity of his stories, but when he brought her a worn scrapbook of newspaper clippings she no longer doubted him. Each week he would bring a little something for her, flowers, candy, once around Christmas a tiny necklace. Each week he would pay up and she'd wonder when he would wander into her life again.

Somehow over the course of these meetings he'd inadvertently wormed his way behind the wall around her heart. It was beyond inappropriate, she knew, so she never said anything, just kept looking for that silver haired old man to approach with his shy smile and twinkling eyes, eager for another hour of quiet humanity.

He smiled as he greeted his old friends, tossing the stale pieces of bread far out into the pond. 

"There you go, guys.  It's been a beautiful summer, huh?"  He grinned at the antics of the younger ducks, racing to and fro and fighting over the larger pieces, while the older ones, his old companions, waited patiently and easily scooped up the smaller bits.  His grin widened as he saw her approaching. 

She greeted him with a somber smile. 

"Hi Gary, how's it been?"

"Great - it's been a beautiful summer.  The usual?"

She smiled and nodded. 

He dusted off his hands and grabbed two sugar cones, setting them in the stand with the ease of too many years practice.  He grabbed his scoop and deftly added a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of strawberry to each.  He handed them to her gently, made change and wished her a good afternoon. 

She smiled as she passed the familiar stand and headed for her usual bench, set a little bit back from the lake under a shaded tree. 

Gary surreptitiously watched her; he was unable to not watch her.  He saw her several times a year.  He often saw her even in the cooler months as he came to check on his beloved ducks.  She barely spoke to him, year after year.  She just smiled, asked after his well-being, and ordered the same thing.  Two sugar cones with a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of strawberry, the strawberry always on top. 

He'd never made the mistake of asking her about it, he remembered when she was much younger, and how she used to come to the lake with another little girl, just like her.  He'd watched them protectively back then, two dark faces with their long, black braided pigtails, laughing and giggling and doing what little girls did on a summer's day.  Then one day they'd just stopped coming, he knew because he'd come to watch for the two.  They'd always put a smile on his face with their antics.  She returned a couple of years after that, conspicuously more subdued, quieter now without her partner in crime.  He'd never presumed to ask her about it, where her little coconspirator was.  He'd sensed that his questions wouldn't have been welcomed and the last thing he wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable.  She was always the highlight of his day.  There was just something about her quiet dignity that drew him to her.

The sunlight reflected off the lake, lighting up her features.  He stiffened as the light glinted off two tear tracks, running down her cheeks unchecked.  He wanted to go to her and comfort her, but he knew better.  Besides, he sensed that she wasn't truly alone.  He just watched as she finished the first cone and held the second in her hand.  She always waited for the second cone to melt, sometimes smiling quietly to herself, sometimes just sitting in silence, but always patiently waiting for the last drips of ice cream to fall to the ground.  Then, as she always did, she stood and threw the remnants of the soggy cone to the ducks, wiped her hands on the napkin and the tears from her face and smiled as she waved goodbye and went on her way. 

She was always the highlight of his day. 

"Hey Mabel, how's it been?  Am I late?"

"No Edna, looks like you're just in time.  How's your week been going?" 

"Alright.  Finally got my new dentures.  Whaddya think?" 

"They look good." 

"Yeah, they use this new stuff for the base - a lot easier on my gums." 

"Well, I see something you wouldn't mind sinking those babies into...  Did they look like that 50 years ago?" 

"I can't vouch for you, but my Earl, bless his departed soul, never looked like that... God knows I would have sent him to an earlier grave, if ya know what I mean."  She winked at her long time friend and they enjoyed a good cackle.   

"Looks like it's getting close to show time.  Didja catch him getting in today?" 

"No - missed it.  Had to beat Merla in Gin again."  They'd been regulars at the Scranton Community Center for years now, but recently their weekend visits had been livened up by a little spice.   

"Mmmm - look at that boy go." 

"Easy there Mabel, remember your blood pressure." 

"It wouldn't be a bad way to go, is all I'm saying." 

"You're a nasty old coot, I tell ya." 

"Aw please, you know you are thinking the same - wait a minute.  Here we go.  3-2-1..."  Mabel adjusted her eyeglasses as Edna ran her tongue over her dentures in anticipation.   

They both sucked in a breath as the young man swum up to the ladder.  They slowly exhaled as they saw the forearms emerge, strong hands grasping the rungs and a pair of wide, powerful shoulders thrusting out of the pool.  Rivulets of water streamed down a generously furred chest as the young man levered himself up and out of the pool.  Edna's jaw hung slack as the broad chest narrowed into a tightly muscled waist, her clouded eyes cursing the advent of swim trunks until his young, muscular thighs were revealed.   

Completely oblivious to the visceral reactions he was causing, the swimmer pulled a towel through his mop of hair and quickly dried his torso, then tied it around his waist, headed towards the locker room. 

"Good afternoon Ladies," he nodded, passing by the sweet older women who reminded him of his Nana Halpert.   

He smiled as they murmured their greetings and hurried to get showered and changed, not wanting to be late for his lunch date.   

As he passed, Edna whispered to Mabel, "Ya know, I bet we could claim Alzheimer's if we got caught wandering in the men's showers."

"Over the hills and everywherrrre
Go, tell it on the mountain,
That Jesus Christ is booooorn."

He put his heart into his words, enunciating his t's and belting out the familiar words, watching her face change as she sang, an ethereal glow seeming to emanate from beneath her porcelain skin.

He hurried to the front steps as the service ended, blinking in the early morning sunshine.  He milled about, trying to look purposeful as he waited for her to emerge.  His love for her filled him the most on mornings like this, the dew burning off into a gentle mist, the sunbeams shining through the stained glass windows and illuminating her hazel eyes.  Her silky blonde hair was always twisted up, the severity of the style simply accentuating her fervid honor of their devotion.  

He took a moment to fantasize, willing to pay the penance after his confessional. He imagined them, bound in the honor and glory of their Savior, him coming home to her after a day of doing the Lord's good work, her eventually presenting him with two wonderful children.  A tow headed boy, first, strong and sturdy, and afterwards a fine, delicate little girl, both as dutiful and devoted to their faith as their parents.

"Excellent sermon today, Father.  I shall focus my prayer upon those themes this week.  Good day to you."

"Good day to you, Miss Martin, I shall see you next Sunday."

He watched her tiny frame as she walked towards the parking lot, marveling at God's genius in creating such an efficiently constructed form.  He forced his focus to the rest of his flock as he resigned himself to another week of waiting to see her again.

It was his grin.  That's what did it for her.  From the moment she'd guided the twins up his walk, the front windows covered in fake spider webs, the rubber bats dangling off of the "Scott Family" name plate and the scarily simplistic jack o' lantern resting next to his door, she'd known he was, well, different.  

Jared had rung the doorbell, and they'd all giggled as they heard the ludicrous "Wa ha ha ha haaa" instead of the familiar "Ding-dong".  The door had opened with a loud creak and there was a puff of smoke.

He'd hacked and coughed until the smoke cleared, waving his cape around to fan it away.  He'd finally stopped and grinned down at the boys, as if they were in on some incredible joke that the rest of the world was just missing out on.  

"Trick or Tweet!" they'd chorused, Keith's gap toothed grin undermining the menace of the skull and crossbones on his pirate hat.  

"Well - what do we have here?  A very scary pirate and a cowboy!  Are you boys having a good time tonight?"

"Yes sir!  Gee, thanks mister!"  The boys' eyes had widened as he'd held out the plastic pumpkin full of regular sized candy bars for them to select from.  "Wow -you're the coolest mister!  Trick or tweet!"

He'd grinned down at them, the joy at their simple pleasure dancing in his clear blue eyes.  He'd looked up at her then and extended the bucket.  "And for you miss?"

For some reason she blushed, catching his gaze as she politely declined.  "I'll leave it for the kids, thanks."

He'd nodded at her, approving.  "That's what it's all about."  He'd smiled as he stepped back to close the door, and suddenly she'd felt like she was in on the joke too.

He couldn't control the smile that curved his lips as he pulled up to the curb.  He always tried to keep this stop for last, but the new fuel efficiency measures the company was taking ("No left turns!") had made that impossible lately.  Not today though.  Today he had managed to plan his route just right, earning himself a few more precious minutes with her.

He took a quick glance in the rearview mirror, running his tongue over his teeth and checking for ‘bats in the cave'. 

"Well, it's as good as it's gonna get, old man," he muttered to himself as he descended and walked to the back of the truck.  He wondered what it was this time. 

At first it had been a lamp, then curtains.  Later came the massage table (returned in its somewhat original condition a week later, her eyes never meeting his as she gave him the duct taped package), the yoga mats, the Foreman grill and countless other knick knacks.

She hadn't taken any deliveries for quite a while, and he had surprised himself when he realized that he missed her.  It was the way she answered the door, something about it just got him every single time. 

He would ring the bell and hear her shuffling footsteps, then stand back as she flung the door wide open, watching it recoil against the wall.  She'd catch it with a glint in her eye and lean her hand up against it, looking him up and down.  She'd pinned him with her cool blue eyes the first time and he'd felt like an ant waiting to be squashed.  She'd snatched his clipboard and signed for the package, directing him to drop it just inside the entryway and shutting the door firmly behind him as he left.

The next time the way she'd looked him up and down made him feel a little less like a bug.  When she'd asked if they had to wear the shorts year round ("Yes, Ma'am") he had bitten back a grin.  Since then, every time he saw her he'd left feeling ten feet tall.  She had the ability to make the balding delivery man feel like an Adonis with just a glance, and he enjoyed the hell out of it.

She was waiting for him today, her hand planted against the side of the cheap painted door.  The sun caught her hair just so and he was surprised to see a streak of grey. 

"What do you have for me today, Archie?" Her voice was tired, and when he looked closely, her eyes seemed defeated.

"A package from the Magic Hut, Ma'am," he said, the box tucked under his arm as he held out the clipboard for her to sign. 

She reached for the stylus and he waited for her to boldly scrawl her name on the electronic screen but instead she paused. 

"Am I worth it?"  It was more of a whisper than a question, and he took the opportunity to lean forward a little, surreptitiously inhaling her musky scent, tinged with a hint of stale cigarettes.

"Ma'am?"

"Archie, I mean, would you think," she stammered, the sudden gush of words trickling to a frustrated hiss.  He smiled gently at her, mentally cataloging her vulnerability.  He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice her frown.  She straightened her back, her chin angling upwards at a stubborn angle.  There's my girl!

He grinned as she signed her name with a flourish, handing him the clipboard and accepting the package.  He turned to leave and then hesitated, his foot on the step as he half turned towards her.

"For the record, Miss Levinson, you are absolutely worth it," he stated, squinting at her in the late afternoon sun.  Her lips tightening, she held his gaze for a brief moment and then shut the door firmly with a barely perceptible nod.  With a spring in his step, he headed to his big brown truck and drove off, already wondering when he would see her again.