Of Cold Fries

You know that moment when you rediscover the french fry that you lost an hour ago in the car while driving the little 'un to an appointment because you've got to feed the kids every day, right? Even though you're sure you fed them yesterday? And when you have finished the meeting and are standing to go and that dear little lost fry decides to take that perfect moment to take leave out of some cozy corner of your scarf or some scenic byway of your coat and fly out and land onto the conference table before you? And in that moment when the kind new acquaintances with whom you are meeting decide not to acknowledge your reunion, do you dare admit to yourself the impulse to put that fry into your mouth? No, no, you do not, that would be gross and ridiculous, so you grab it and put it, where? where? in your POCKET and finish the paperwork and thank the kind pair who are still looking you right in the eye and have said nothing although sometimes I am the sort to cry out to my daughter's chagrin, "Oh look! My fry!" But not tonight.