The Breakfast

Short Story Day 97 of 365

Scotty and Erik had spent the entire week together in Dallas for the annual car and truck show. Erik came up from San Antonio and Scotty flew up from Houston. Both were successful new car dealers.

Every morning they met for breakfast before heading to the convention center a block away. Both were part of the hundreds who hadn’t signed up in advance and couldn’t get a room at the convention hotel.

Erik brought his oatmeal, a bowl of cranberries, and a bowl of walnuts to the table, and started eating.

Scotty said, “Got a little bit of OCD kicking in there, I see.”

“Naaa,” Erik said with his eyes darting all over his breakfast, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“OCD? OCD is that thing where you have to have your world ordered. No one food can touch another and you have to have to eat it a specific way. Maybe at home your books have to be on the shelf according to height, something like that. Big spoons with big spoons in a silverware drawer, little spoons with little spoons. They can’t be out of order. Like that.”

“Hmpf. Just curious why you thought I had this O-C….”

Scotty said, “OCD. Stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Look at your plate there. You’ve got oatmeal with your cranberries and walnuts off to the side. Why don’t you put the cranberries and walnuts in the oatmeal? Or look at mine. I’ve got OCD going. My eggs are separate from my bacon, toast, and French toast. No way would I let the bread touch the runny eggs. By the looks of things, I might have to get some eggs that are a little more done inside.”

“And you think cranberries and walnuts do go with oatmeal?” Erik asked.

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