Habits

The summer was close, everyone could feel it. There was no longer any need for gloves and hats and all the other clothes that winters liked to see you wear. But the man still wore the same green jacket every time she saw him. It was not only the jacket that was the same, the blue and white checked shirt and the lime green pullover were also always on. Just like the newspaper under his left arm. His eyes were big, round and brown. He was not tall and his posture did barely help him either. She and her coworkers recognized him by now. They even knew what he wanted to order exactly. It was always the same. Some people like routines; they get up in the morning at the same time every day, do exactly the same things every day, get home. Maybe they socialize with family, and then go to bed. The day after is just the same as the day before. They don't think about what they do or why or how it makes them feel. They never reflect. But some people end up in this eternal circle without the love for routines. They are not very pleased with their situation and always long for better times. He was the first type of person; she was probably more like the second. Who would want to eat the same thing every day? Because it was not only Fridays he came, she was told that he came other days as well, when she wasn't there. She was amazed by his pattern. Sometimes she saw him on the metro during the evenings, wearing the same clothes and holding that newspaper under his arm. It was probably before or after his dinner at McDonalds that she saw him because it was always close to it.

"Hello, one of this Chicken Tasty, yes, and three big glasses of water" he said with an unidentified accent and at used his hand at the same time to make sure he was understood.