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Playing the Pauper continued

"Cheeseburger and milk," he whispered through the side of his mouth, as though I couldn't hear him or that I was unaware of what Gert had asked. "He's only got 84 cents."

"Give it to him," she ordered in a matronly manner that, at the same time, maintained her aloofness. "I'll pick up the difference."

"How do I...?" Ned, apparently new at the computer, started to ask.

"I'll take care of it later," Gert insisted as she checked the coffee pot on the back counter.

He slapped the pre-wrapped cheeseburger and the milk carton on a tray. I gave him the 84 cents I had in the palm of my hand.

"I'll bring it out to the table for you," Gert offered. So, I shimmied over to the nearest table and plopped down into the chair. My crutches hit the floor with a clank. This was not the right thing to do -- but so what? I was entitled to a bit of charity now and then.

Gert came over with my tray. "Thank you," I said, trying to sound appreciative and intelligent at the same time.

"That's OK," she assured me, speaking louder and more distinctly than she needed to. "You have a nice lunch now."

She probably thought she understood my situation, but she didn't. It was all an accidental fabrication that looked real. The circumstances -- and the perceptions -- had just fallen into place, and, instead of overriding the impressions, I stood by and watched them play out.

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