He had scruffy brown hair, a ridiculous mustache, and sweet brown eyes. The bowling alley was quiet, seeing as it was a slow Wednesday afternoon. He ordered two beers at the bar, paid, and carried them over to the lane he was sharing with his brother.

He set the bottles down and looked at his brother. The poor guy was lost in his thoughts again, staring off to the right. He followed the line of sight to a couple of huddled women who were chatting furiously. Mildly curious (and prone to whims), he wandered over, pretending to check out the video games in the arcade area.

“I don’t know why you put up with him, Sylvie. I mean, come on, a bowling alley? On your birthday?” The first woman shook her head in obvious irritation.

“It gets worse. He didn’t even bring me to bowl. He brought me to cheer him on. I guess his bowling league is having some kind of championship in about an hour,” the second woman muttered. Her eyes were a little puffy, as if she’d been crying, and she sniffled quietly while her friend huffed in indignation.

“Unbelievable! He is such a…a…a jerk! Come on, Sylvie, let’s go. I am not about to let you waste your birthday on that asshole. We’re going out.” The woman stood up, grabbing her friend’s hand and pulling her up out of her seat.

The second woman smiled, her eyes still watery, and slowly reached down for her purse. “Thanks, Dee. Really.” She glanced backwards, apparently gazing at one of the guys in a group of men about four lanes over. “You know what the worst part is? He probably won’t even notice I’ve left.” She sniffled, straightened, and plastered a sad smile onto her face, then marched out the front door with her friend.

The scruffy mustached gentlemen sighed, and walked back over to his brother. He sat down heavily and crossed his legs. Reaching for a beer, he took a good swig and reached into his pocket. His brother’s eyes widened slightly when he brought the scrap of paper out.

He unfolded the wrinkled scrap carefully, smoothing it out on his knee. Scratched out in tiny, near illegible writing, was a hodgepodge list of sorts. In his mind, he brought forth the silent image of a girl with curly hair, shy and quiet, waiting in a corner for someone to talk to her. With his finger, he scanned down the list until he reached number eighty-one. He read it over quickly, tapping it with his finger, then looked up at his brother. He raised a resigned eyebrow and returned the list to his pocket. His brother scratched the back of his head.

Standing up, he reached into the front right pocket of his jeans and pulled out some coins. He walked over towards the arcade and approached the phone booth, his brother trailing slowly behind him. He grabbed the receiver, dropped a few coins into the slot at the top, and dialed. After a few rings, he heard the click as someone picked up on the other end. The voice of an older woman sweetly asked how she could be of service to him.

He cleared his throat, winked at his brother, and subconsciously patted the pocket where he kept his precious list. Then he spoke. “Yeah. Uhh, hi. My name is Earl.”