"You guyzzzz," he says, doing his best Bo Duke and picking up his tray. "I gotta go--got work to do."
We sit at the table staring at each other.
"Boston Public Library, 12:00?", one guy asks.
We nod.
I take my tray up to the dishwashers, pivot and catch up to a friend in front of me.
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"What do running tights go for these days?," I ask, slyly.
"23.95 at Brine's," he chirps, without breaking stride.