The Man In The Suit

"I have only a moment." The man in the suit stood straight, posture perfect, arms casually hung before him and hands crossed at his belly.

"And?" Jacob stepped off the platform, lifting the formidable bucket of cleaner over the top railing.

"You, also, have only a moment." Their eyes met, duplicate countenances both impertinent and pensive. The man in the suit did not look like a thug at all, but of course when it came to matters in the city you simply never knew for sure. One thing that was for sure was that people didn't just approach each other with strange comments.

Jacob retrieved a sandwich-pastrami, cheese, and mayonnaise, as was the usual for morning break-from his lunch bag, keeping his eyes on the man in the suit all the while. He was not intimidated by Jacob's unending regard and stood unwaveringly in a relaxed manner that contrasted with the irregular situation.

"What's your problem?" Jacob's words came out muffled on account of a gaping mouthful of sandwich. Rudeness, like most things, had the occasional useful purpose. Most people might have decided to leave him alone at that point, but the man in the suit stood firm.

"She will be here soon. Do not step from your station, young man. Your chances are ...slim, as it were, and speaking to the woman will only serve to lessen them."

Jacob swallowed, or rather he attempted to-the doughy white bread had other ideas and set up camp half way down. He reached for the bottle of water he kept alongside his fat afternoon sandwich, twisted off the cap hurriedly with one solid snap and then drank greedily. Half of the bottle was gone by the time the blockage had followed the water down his throat and when he looked up the man in the black suit was gone.

The End

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