The new comer is ducking and turning slightly to get through the narrow office door. A swoosh of chilly air follows him. Most of us sit with a book or a magazine in our hands. What else is there to do in a waiting room? We slouch in our uncomfortable chairs, glancing up as if we’d been expecting him, though of course we weren’t. Why would we? Each of us just islands, cocooned in our own little worlds, waiting to be distracted by the simple act of an opening door. I view the new comer from beneath my lashes.  He has the appearance of an unmade bed. His dark coat, one of those Navy Pea Coats, has a scattering of white fur, cat? Ugh. I stifle a sneeze while fumbling through my purse for a tissue. I am not a fan of cats.  Cats are unpredictable, everyone knows that. The new comer leans against the wall by the door, eyeing the only two unoccupied chairs, which happen to be on either side of me.  He winks a blue eye and I cringe to have been caught staring.  I bring my book up to my nose, pretending to be immersed.  “May I?” he says, standing by the chair to my left. I nod, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.  He settles in and I get a scent of soap, Tide?  It’s warm in the room, warmer now that he is so close. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of him as he opens his coat, tugging a scarf from around his neck. It’s blue, but not like his eyes.  It’s more of a blueberry color, a purplish blue. He’s staring down at it, twisting it, folding it and refolding it. There is morning stubble on his face, but it’s a nice face, I concede. Square jaw, straight nose and a high forehead; his unruly hair is dark, dark as onyx. It’s the kind of hair you itch to comb, or run your fingers through. ~~~~