Story #12

The tray sat undisturbed, but the man barely sat at all. Instead, he had a quiet agitation about him. This created enough displacement in the air around him that he more or less hovered over the seat cushion he appeared to be occupying. He pretended to read but knew his mind was securely on the tray. Looking over at it only made it worse. He thought about kite flying. The red streamers warped into metal handles, the very fabric curving in it's shiny silverness. No use. He blasted off the couch and over to the tray. One peek was all he really needed.