He came upon a woman wearing jeans and a crisp, white blouse putting together a salad at the salad bar. No make up. Gay? Married? No wedding ring that he could see. 

     Adam grabbed a plate and stood next to her. 

​     She elbowed him in the ribs. "Would you mind scooting over a little? You're crowding me." 

​     "I had no..."

     "There. That's better. There's enough for everybody. No need to be overly aggressive." 

     "I wasn't...I...hmm." Lesbians intrigued him. He was so used to women falling all over him that it was refreshing the very few times it didn't happen.

     "What looks good to you? What do you think I ought to try?" ​  

     "I'm sorry. Did you ask me something?"  

     "I was hoping you'd be able to help me put together a salad."

​     "Doesn't your mommy usually do that for you?"

     "I'm sorry. I meant no offense. I'll leave you to your veggies." 

​     She wore no nonsense eyeglasses, and now she looked over her eyeglasses at Adam. "Who are you?" she asked. "I could name ninety percent of the people in this room..." 

     "As could I."

​     "I don't recognize you. I mean, I do kind of recognize you, but..."

     "I get that a lot." He bowed and held out his hand. "Ma'am, allow me to introduce myself. I am..."

     "You're Adam Forwarder. I just figured it out."

     "Guilty as charged."   

     "Oh my." She backed away from him just the slightest bit. "You...You're the..."

     "Ah, you've heard of me." 

​     "Adam Forwarder! I never thought in my entire life that I'd ever meet..." 

​     "And now you have." 

​     "I mean, I've seen pictures of you..."

     "I always look younger in my photos."

​     She observed every part of him over the top of her glasses. "I've always been...intrigued by the phenomenon of you."

​     "You know, I really am feeling a bit peckish." Adam pointed to his own stomach. "Don't you think we could discuss this over breakfast? Like, for instance, right there. Someone's cooking up some eggs. Let's have some eggs. What do you say?" 

​     "Fine, on one condition: I get to ask you anything I'd like."

     "Fine, as long as I can feel free not to answer. Let's see..." To the cook, he said, "I don't suppose you could fry me up a Denver Omelette?"

     "With pleasure, sir."

                                              CONTINUE

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