Stranger’s Manifesto

Entry 5

Last year

I gave the lunchtime “Games” Club a try,

Dorky as that sounds.

At least it was an air-conditioned place to park my butt

During the agonizing forty minutes of lunch.

But get this—while there were at least six simultaneous card games,

No one seemed to have space at their table

For me.

I’m not sure they even noticed me standing there.

Waiting. And waiting.

Until I was tired of waiting.

Until I whipped out my solitaire cards as a last resort

And dealt my own hand.

So it wouldn’t look like I was sitting all alone.

So I wouldn’t have to remember

What it was like when I used to have

Someone to sit with at lunch.

So I wouldn’t have to remember that feeling of hope

That I might not be on the bottom rung

Of the popularity ladder forever,

Because I know all too well

That feeling can burst.

All it takes is someone with a sharp pin.