The Percentage Man by Tim Bennett

            I open the cupboard above the stove and remove an Old Fashioned glass. I fill it with ice from the maker in the freezer, pour three equal shots of the silver rum, and top it off with the diet coke. There is still half of the soda in the can in case she wants another drink. I hand her the drink and she takes a long sip, draining nearly half the glass. It does not take much to empty considering it is filled with mostly ice, fourteen cubes.
            "You're not having one?" she asks me.
            I shake my head twice. "No, I do not drink."
            "Who's the rum for, then?"
            "It is for you."
            She smiles, drinks the rest, and hands me back the glass. "Fix me another, then, and don't be so light handed this time."
            I return with the second drink, fifteen cubes this time, which amounts to slightly less diet coke, leaving a few ounces left, possibly two, so I down the rest and ask her what she does. "Besides this, I mean."
            She stops mid-sip and hesitates for two seconds. "What do you mean?"
            "I mean, what do you do when you're not working?"
            She rests the drink on her knees and stares at it. "I don't do anything."
            Twenty seven percent give this answer, forty nine percent refuse to answer, and only fourteen percent actually give an answer. "Oh come on," I chuckle softly. "You must do something."
            "What do you do? Besides this." She motions to my collection about the room.
            "This is what I do," I answer. "But what do you do?"
            She continues to stare at her drink for fifty seconds. "I go to school."
            This is a first! "Oh! That is good. Where do you go?"
            "I'd rather not say."
            "Fair enough. What are you studying?"
            She flicks her dark hair back her shoulders. "This and that. Math. Geography. I'm learning German."
            The population of Germany as of December 31 last year is eighty two million, four hundred and forty thousand, and three hundred people. Their annual rainfall of Berlin is twenty three inches. They have an aggressive and intricate government recycling program. They like sausage.
            "Say something in German," I tell her.
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