HE DRUMMED A NOTHING TUNE


He sighed. A table of eight and he was the only one staring at eye level. All seven had their eyes squarely facing either their lap, or the table in front of them.
Phones. Counting, three had earbuds, two were giggling at conversations, one other was morose, and the last, he wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep, or not.
What a great outing, he thought. Yes he had a phone, and yes it was still in his pocket. He stretched his long black jeaned legs to the other side of the table, carefully avoiding hitting anyone with his boots. He sighed again. No one heard him.
He tapped rhythmically on the table with his right hand. He drummed a nothing tune, something made up for the moment. He did that a lot, and why not, there were always great swathes of time fillers. This had not meant to be one of them, but it had quickly worked out that way. He should have known the way things were going when he accepted the offer of a trip. A trip to where? He never bothered to ask.
He was six foot five and had just turned eighteen. He could do a good scowl, who couldn’t at eighteen, but he didn’t always want to, you know?

He decided to go wandering. 

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