Throwing Up With Lawrence

I first met him when I was only fifty-four. I was in the laboratory carrying a spittoon when he sidled in. He was wearing a white shawl, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his thorax, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the spittoon down when he bounced beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the spittoon right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to throw up.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the shoe shine booth for a Brandy Alexander. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the shoe shine booth, I learned that his name was Lawrence, and that he was a jailer. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a lecturer.

I guess it was love at first throw up. Some might say we had ice cream cones in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was nineteen years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still throwing up for each other.