Thousand: Seven Hundred Seventy-Six

he says. “I. Yes. I think. No. I don’t wear. I don’t.” He rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I have to sit down.” He goes to one of the chairs by the snack bar. The old man hiccups. He smiles at this man in the colorful blouse. The man in the colorful blouse doesn’t notice. The magpie jumps down to the table and waddles over. “You come from the other way?” the magpie says, not really asking. “Want a chewy bar? Lemonade? Lemon tizzy? Lemonade verity? Lemon in the hole? Bar of chocolate and peanut butter?