“You look worn out, sweetheart.”

“I am worn out.”

He ordered country ham and eggs for both of us without asking me.

The waitress wrote it on her pad and said, “Same as usual, Mr.

Hayward,” and he laughed like a man at a church picnic, and she laughed along with him and topped off his cup.

Then he stirred three sugars into it, one at a time, and never took a sip.

“I’ve been thinking about all this nonsense,” he said.