I.   II.
III.   IV.
V.   VI.
VII.   VIII.
IX.   X.
XI.   XII.
XIII.   XIV.
XV.   XVI.
XVII.   XVIII.
XIX.   XX.
XXI.   XXII.
XXIII.   XXIV.
XXV.   XXVI.
XXVII.  XXVIII.
XXIX.   XXX.
Thirty-one.  Thirty-two.
Thirty-three.  Thirty-four.
Thirty-five.  Thirty-six.
Thirty-seven.  Thirty-eight.
Thirty-nine.  Forty.
Forty-one.  Forty-two.
Forty-three.  Forty-four.
Forty-five.  Forty-six.
Forty-seven.  Forty-eight.
Forty-nine.  Fifty.
Fifty-one.  Fifty-two.
Fifty-three.  Fifty-four.
Fifty-five.  Fifty-six.
Fifty-seven.  Fifty-eight.
Fifty-nine.  Sixty.
LXI.   LXII.
LXIII.   LXIV.
LXV.   LXVI.
LXVII.   LXVIII.
LXIX.   LXX.
LXXI.   LXXII.
LXXIII.   LXXIV.
LXXV.   LXXVI.
LXXVII.   LXXVIII.
LXXIX.   LXXX.
LXXXI.   LXXXII.
LXXXIII.   LXXXIV.
LXXXV.   LXXXVI.
LXXXVII.  LXXXVIII.
LXXXIX.   XC.
Ninety-one.  Ninety-two.
Ninety-three.  Ninety-four.
Ninety-five.  Ninety-six.
Ninety-seven.  Ninety-eight.
Ninety-nine.  100.
101.

101 ways to read between the lines

Dave liked Will. There wasn’t much to it.

“Are you gonna eat that?”

“… Huh?”

“Yeah. Ok.”

He was out of it today. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He was still sitting here. Eating bland food in a bland room in a bland building. Surrounded by the same old people, never changing.

Will was starting in on his apple, some of the juice dribbling onto his chin. Why did he never use a napkin, chosing instead to wipe it off with his hand and lick the stuff from his fingers? Dave squirmed in his seat.

He had to get the signed reports to his boss by 2 pm, then run down to that guy on the corner of Washington and 5th, he always knew something. And even if he didn’t, he could easily make it work to his advantage by cross-cutting Will back at the deli, make sure he didn’t get that disgusting cheese cake again. Did he do it on purpose, just to rile him up?

“What?”

“What what?”

Will wiped off the last runny yolk of his eggs with a piece of toast and fixed him with a neutral look. “You were staring, Bowdren.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Dave glared mildly, irritated at best, distracted by how today’s lasagna seemed to tease the insides of his throat and stomach. He must remember to take smaller bites, wouldn’t do to be stuck with a lump like that during the briefing.

Just as they were about to leave, Will got a phone call. He fished for his cell and glanced at the lit-up panel as Dave tried to look like he wasn’t looking. That one glance transformed Will. It was subtle, and even though Dave wasn’t looking it was because he was that he noticed it at all. Will always flushed easily because his skin was so pale, and when he got excited about something his eyes would get all glassy like he was about to cry. His bent head hid the tell-tale signs Dave was used to, but his parted hair couldn’t quite conceal the trembling of lips about to break out into a smile. Will smiled very rarely.

Dave liked Will. There wasn’t much to it. And Dave didn’t know why he was so out of it today. Nor why it felt as if someone had just shoved shards of glass down his throat.