After reaching for my forearm he sprinkles salt all over it. The salt doesn’t stick but falls over the sides of my arm on to the table. I ordered french fries with bbq and ranch on the side. He ordered beer and claimed he wasn’t hungry. I remove my arm from the table and study the salt outline left behind. It looks like a path my eyes cross to make something of it but then he sweeps it all off the table. I couldn’t believe it. Why waste a perfectly sound moment. If the fries weren’t on the way I’d throw a fit. But I was too tired and hungry to let him get a rise outta me. I just want my fries. He looks toward the bar and I know he just wants his beer. So we sit quietly and I stare at the salt shaker trying to replay…