…on Andrew’s book bag iher. I stood up and moved my stuff to let Ahrough.
“Sure. 138 divided by 2”
“Well, that’s fine,” I responded. “Everyone has something they were put on this Earth to do. Whether yood at just ohing or at a million things or at nothing really, there’s som
“Uh…no. I’m sorry I never introduced myself before.” He extended his hand for a handshake and I reciprocated. “Andrew Corrie. I’m an enviroal reporter for the Toronto Star.”
Well, anyway, it seemed like my attempts to avoid his notice had worked, because he soon after got up, and walked to the back of the car to the toilet without looking at me once. I relaxed for a while until he walked back up the aisle, looked right at me, and asked, iest mid-range voice with a bit of noticeable Toronto lilt, “do you mind if I have your window seat? My friend here has fully quered mine now, I think.”
“Sure. I’m Gee. What’s your name?”
“Ask me a math question. Something you think you could answer off the top of your head.”
“Oh! ok. That explains it. You see, before, you were just veiled in mystery to me.”
I waited a couple seds for him to settle in and then I turo look over at him to start up a versation.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, so…you’re a biologist tht?”
“What? Why?”
I looked over and Sean, a botanist from UVA who was admittedly pretty big, had fallen asleep in his seat aed his head on, um….
“Andrew.”
the recorded mating habits of the Giant Rainbow Trout to discuss with the team in New York when we’d revene in two months.
“Not a damn clue; that’s why.”
“Yeah. My fault entirely. I’m bad at makiion in general, but especially in circles where I don’t especially fit in. There’s a reason I stick to rep oher studying it.”
We both laughed. He had a really cute laugh, and I couldn’t help notice the way his big queen-size mattress of an abdomen heaved up and down with each breath.
“Sure, no problem.”