i don't like fries that much, really. one time, during one of my numerous five-hour breaks, i went to mcdo with a boy and ordered fries with a coke float, which i love, by the way. we found an empty table by the wall where those supposedly artistic paintings hang, pasted images of burgers and nuggets. we sat down and plopped our trays on the table, and he scooted over beside me, our arms gently touching. we reached for our shake shake fries, put in the powder and made a racket for a minute. his fries were cheese-flavored, mine was the awful barbeque, which tasted more like cheap curry powder.

out of nowhere a gaggle of girls screamed their boobs out and simultaneously leaped off of their chairs and scrambled off into another table. they probably were afraid of ketchup, or freaked out at the sight of their chicken wing still with a wing. then minutes later the boy pointed to the table with his eyes dilated and his neck veins sticking out. his finger was pointing at a cockroach roaming our table, inches away from our food. i jumped away from where i was sitting and didn't notice until a few seconds later that i was leaning on him as i backed away from the insect. i told him to move to the next table, but the group of girls next to us were blocking the space between our tables, immobile, stunned by the monster.

"go away!", he shouted at the herd, as the cockroach inched toward us. but the girls were deaf from all their screaming so we didn't actually get the chance to move until a minute later.

i realized, that when i was leaning on him, his chest against my shoulders, that it was the kind of proximity i wanted to have between us. the fuzziness of the contact, the warmth, and the easy comfort were a territory i wanted to explore and be comfortable with. it was a nice feeling.

it was a good thing that the cockroach shuffled away after, perhaps reading my mind, and left us alone to each other.