Harriet offered me her leftover cheese fries the other night. This is a big breakthrough in our friendship. She also invited me to take her cup of cole slaw. I had to retreat to the men's room to sort this out. Anyone who has tasted cheese fries understands this is a huge sacrifice, far beyond anything I've done for her. Certainly above and beyond my offering to give her some of my mayonnaise three years ago at the same diner.
There were three other witnesses this time and all were as shocked as me. It wasn't like I asked, but honestly, my eyes never left those fries from the time they were served. I didn't realize I was so transparent. Are you sure, I asked, barely able to get the words out. Once, long ago, a woman I loved offered me waffle fries she couldn't finish. But I sensed it was an empty offer. I knew she wanted a doggie bag. A man just knows these things. Soon after, we went our separate ways. It was me or the waffle fries and she chose the latter.
At this moment I have Harriet's surrendered cheese fries in my refrigerator. I periodically open the container and stare at them, thoroughly embarrassed. How can one person have so much love in their heart? I don't deserve Harriet or her fries. But they will be my side dish tonight. I've got a bottle of honey mustard screaming to be opened.
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