They sit at the head of the road, just they’ve done for the last six weeks. I’ve seen them every day they’ve done this: sitting on the old metal bench, each eating a sandwich and not sharing a word while they look at each other every once in a while. They will arrive there, one ahead of the other by minutes. After they finish eating, the two men stand and amble off in different directions. It’s odd.

I think they’re two friends who’ve grown old together and now spend a little time with each other, words exhausted over the years.

~~

[THE JOURNAL OF JIM PARSON]:

I CAN’T GET A MOMENT’S PEACE IN THIS DAMNED TOWN. BEEN TRYING TO EAT AT THE BENCH FOR DAYS NOW AND THIS ASSHOLE KEEPING SITTING NEXT TO ME.

I’LL TRY TO GO A BIT EARLIER TOMORROW. I’LL SACRIFICE A VIEW OF THE SUNSET FOR A DAY.

~~

Alec stood on his stoop, sandwich in hand, watching Jim shuffle down the street towards the bench. He took a deep breath and then stepped off on to the sidewalk.

Today would be the day he told Jim how he felt about him.