????? ? ??????

* carousel *

Only two people ever called him: his mother, who was probably still asleep at this time of morning, and Bill. Eddie picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey Eddie!" his childhood best friend exclaimed from the other end of the line. "Are you d-d-d-doing anything today?"

Bill's stutter had greatly improved over the years. It was practically gone, but it still cropped up now and then, especially when he was tired, nervous or excited, or (inexplicably) when he was talking on the phone.

Eddie spun the phone cord absently around his finger. "Not really. Just some school stuff, then I thought I'd get some cleaning done. Why?"

"W-w-well, I thought we could grab lunch or something - if you're not t-t-t-too busy," he added, somewhat apologetically.

Eddie glanced around - at all his unfinished classwork, at the jacket slung over the back of the couch, at the papers that had fallen to the floor during his note-taking, at the jar of peanut butter he had yet to put back in the cupboard after three days. Then he glanced at the door, and tried to remember the last time he'd left his apartment other than for school or work. He drew a blank.

"Sure," he said into the phone. "I'll meet you at The Spoon around two."

The Golden Spoon Coffeehouse and Diner - or just The Spoon to those who knew it - was Bill and Eddie's favourite restaurant. It was where they always went out to eat, and to catch up. The Spoon served the best pasta Eddie had ever had, and their burgers were to die for. Plus, they served all day breakfast. Their waffles were so good that one bite once brought Eddie to tears. Seriously. He'd never tasted something so heavenly.

Eddie was there now, fifteen minutes early (as per usual) and waiting for Bill at their usual table by the door. He'd ordered himself a coffee. The Spoon had the best coffee in town, in Eddie's humble opinion. Strong, but not bitter, with just the right amount of underlying sweetness. Eddie loved it, usually couldn't get enough of it. But today, he hadn't yet touched his quickly cooling mug. He was staring, confused, at the small bit of paper in his hand.

He'd found it on the floor of his apartment, slid underneath the door frame. It looked like an old receipt, one that had been rubbed clean of any ink by virtue of having been folded and unfolded countless times. It had faded fold lines spidering across it and a tear near the middle, as though someone had hastily tried to straighten out its crumpled form. On it was scrawled a little note in red ink:

Next time you find yourself awake at 4am, feel free to join me :)

-306

Eddie had read the note five times, standing in his doorway, his heart climbing anxiously up to his throat. He'd stared at his closed apartment door, as if he could see straight through it to the room across the hall. It must have been from the man whom Eddie saw walking every night. But why ? He couldn't have noticed Eddie watching him... could he? He was so far away... but then, Eddie could see him just fine. Who was to say it couldn't go the other way as well? And he'd been sure the man had been looking up at him last night - for a split second, he was even certain they had made eye contact.

And he had waved. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he was delirious - he had been half asleep at the time. Maybe he hadn't thought 306 would be able to see him, that there was no harm in it. Or maybe he had thought he would be seen. Maybe he'd even been hoping for it - hoping for this ...