He wore beige khaki pants. The kind that unzipped into shorts. His running shoes blue mirrors to my own neon green. He had on a black windbreaker. His hair was perfectly cut. In the back especially. As if someone did it with a ruler. He had blue eyes and a baby soft voice. He was eating McDonald’s. He was the kind of guy that still did that. Unaware of the health risks. Or just not minding. He had an open face. Innocent. Honest. When he ate his fries he looked like the kind of guy who would offer them to strangers. But he didn’t. He asked to sit beside her even with the empty seats.