“Jared,” I lightly speak down the hall toward him.
He glances up from his mop and bucket. He makes clear eye contact and waits for me to speak. There is obviously no need for a response until I address my question. I have his full attention.
“Do you know where I can find Tiffany?” I"m quiet and direct.
“I just saw her in the locker room.” His scratchy voice carries back to me an octave above a whisper.
Jared"s attention returns directly back to the task at hand. His head tilts down toward the floor as quickly as he had looked up from it. He continues the light cleaning motions. Back and forth his arms sway, with shoulders hardly moving. The job is nearly done, the halls are shining. He has little left to finish before his break between crowds.
At that point the second round of movie w
