Spotlight on William Cannon
From Entry #12
The kid I use to pick on years ago in high school was in a
local diner; or rather I stumbled into his roam. If he would
have recognized me, I'm sure he would have smiled with delight.
I was seated an aisle across from him. I quickly decided on
my meal and waited for the waitress, the only one on, to fetch
my needs. I sat waiting my turn, wasting moments. It was late,
and a weeknight so only a few were even in the place. I looked
around the restaurant, that's when I first saw him. It took
time for me to remember who his face was.
Once I realized it was his awkward feminine gait, rather his
face; I remembered him. My head swam back. I stood by my locker
in High School. I was laughing at him because I had made him
cry.
He talked to the waitress as if it was his mother but with
even less care. He scolded her for serving him cold gravy over
the ice cream scooped mashed potatoes.
What a loon, I chuckled to myself. His feathered hair, parted
to one side needing constantly to be pushed out of his blue
crystal eyes.
Blonde, washed out blonde, covering his angular nose. I felt
sick relearning so much about him.
I know he knew I was watching him. Unamused he sat long ways
with his back against the front window facing the aisles in
the diner. He creates scenes for the people he sees, dialogues.
He allows stardom, for all the in-house players.
"If all these people weren't here, I would show my stage
to them and invite them to learn my character. Help yourselves
to another one of my faults; now take it from there."
