So I’m dining on breakfast, when Walter walks past my cube.  Walter is an older man of middle eastern descent, with a strong accent and a huge sense of humor.  He says I’m “spicy.”

Then he walks by again.  He’s grinning from ear-to-ear.. one of those grins that, when you know a child well enough, you start to get nervous when you see them grinning like that.  You start to mentally take note of all the breakable stuff in the house and the existence and whereabouts of all pets.  It’s a guilty grin.

Then he walks by yet again.

The fourth time, I stopped him.  “Okay, Walter.  What’s up?”

“Nothing my friend,” he says, his gutteral accent logging itself in my brain.  It’s so vivid, I know I can imitate him at a moment’s notice.

And he disappeared.  Only to walk by again.

I threw down my breakfast.  “Why are you walking by?” I demanded.

He grinned again.  “You are eating a banana,” he said.

“And?”

“And I like to watch.”