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Well Met is a short story about two men who occasionally sit and chat on a park bench.
The tale of their last meeting is posted here as a free sample of Courtney Seligman's writing.
Well Met

     I saw Beemis again, the other day.
     He was sitting, as usual, on the bench near the elm tree. Just sitting, enjoying the afternoon sun, and the view. When he saw me, he nodded in casual greeting, and I went over and sat down, as I had so many other times, the last couple of years.
     Now, to look at him, you wouldn't have thought there was much to him - just a very ordinary looking fellow, much like any other fellow sitting on a park bench, enjoying the afternoon sun, and the view. Not someone you'd look at twice, or give a second thought to, if you were passing by. And yet, he was one of the most pleasant and interesting men I'd ever met, even if more than a bit - well, let's be generous, and just say 'odd' - in some ways. So, whenever I saw him, I'd sit and visit a while.
     "Afternoon, Frank," he said, softly.
     "Afternoon, Beemis."
     "A nice day, isn't it?" he observed.
     "Yes, it is," I agreed.
     Our conversations always started like that. Just a nod and a hello, and a comment about how nice the weather was. Which it always was, because he was only there on nice days.
     "Been a while," he said, apologetically.
     "Yes, it has."
     "Been busy, back home. Tests and things."
     I smiled. "I imagine so." He was often busy with one thing or another, or so he said, whenever he apologized for not being around for a while. And I was sure they tried to keep him busy, or at least distracted, wherever 'home' was.
     He looked at a young couple a dozen or so yards away, then back at me.
     "You've been busy, too."
     I blinked. I had been, but I couldn't imagine how he could know that. Still, he often said things that were surprising, then explained them away in such a simple and obvious way that they didn't seem at all surprising, afterwards.
     "Yes, I have. But how did you know?"
     He nodded toward me. "Your clothes look like you've been living in them, you haven't shaved recently, and your eyes are bloodshot. You've been busy."
     I wryly smiled at how obvious he made it seem, and nodded. "Yes, I have. A lot of new patents filed, and my boss..."
     "Mr. Hardy," he interjected.
     "Yes, Mr. Hardy. He can't hire another man, what with the budget cuts, and he won't listen to reason. Just wants things done, and done now, whether I have time to properly study them, or not."
     "Well," he pointed out, "most are never brought to market, so I don't suppose it makes much difference..."
     I nodded. "That's true. But still, what's the point of doing my job, if I don't do it right?"
     He smiled, a common thing for him. "True. There'd be no point in it, no point at all - would there?"

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"Well Met" © 2004, 2008 Courtney Seligman; this page © 2007-2008 Erindale Publishing