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Dave Canton sat in the fancy restaurant anxiously waiting. He felt out of place being a country boy. People around him, well dressed men and women, tipped tall wine glasses, slowly ate food he didn’t recognize, exercised the utmost in manners at their individual cloth covered circular tables. Dave tried to research proper manners and behavior but gave up. At least he knew not to rest his elbows on the table. His mother told him to be himself. She also scolded him for laying down three grand for the privilege of dining with the beautiful blond whose photographs he had downloaded. The photos also cost him a bundle. From Indiana to New York was a long, expensive trip. His Indiana customers protested, wanting their wood projects and electronic repair work completed immediately. Well, self-employed people could call their own shots.

He’d waited a long time to meet Gena. His room back home was filled wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling with her photographs. Twenty were available and he had all of them. She never smiled in her photos. Did that mirror her personality? How would she treat a small town dweller like him? Actually, he wasn’t sure he cared. All he wanted to do was sit and stare at her in person. He didn’t even care about eating, besides fancy food names eluded him and he didn’t touch alcohol.

He looked down at the two 8x10 photos of her in their plastic notebook inserts. He showed them at the door to gain entrance to the swanky restaurant and to be placed at the reserved table. Half way between the entrance and the swinging doors to the kitchen, his table nestled between several other tables. He wondered if people knew why he was here. They stared at him, disgusted expressions evident by their down turned lips, eyes that roved from his black slip-ons to his prism glasses. Self-consciously, he straightened his dark blue tie, made sure the flaps of his sports coat pockets were out, and the fly on his dark blue dress pants was zipped up.

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