Scarface

Today, I shared the quiet room with Scarface for the fifth day in a row. Well, I had to sit in periodicals like an animal two of those days, but he was there. The quiet room was busting this week.

One day a kid with a runny nose sniffed wetly every 30-45 seconds. I timed it.

Then there's Scarface. He wears the same hi-viz green shirt every day. With no motorcycle in the parking lot, I just assume he's really afraid of not being seen. He sits with his nose about an inch away from the newspaper for about an hour or more and sometimes switches out with a book or two. He does not put them away when he's finished. I'm staring at two of them on an empty table where he left them yesterday.

The thing about Scarface, though, is his phone. I don't think he knows what vibrate means or how to silence it. He charges it constantly, but the connector must be loose because it bloops and re-bloops every so often. He's pretty popular too because he gets a lot of texts. It's not just a single note notification either. Be-bo-bopUP. All the time.

My exasperated sighs and pointed looks have so far had no effect.