Honeybun

At gatherings where food was free, wherever canapés and a punch bowl were set upon a table, one couple was always there, eating from whatever the groaning-board had to offer. I spoke to them occasionally. I never knew their names but everyone called them Bush and Honeybun. Bush was unshaven and wore the same tweed jacket no matter the season. Honeybun wore vivid, mismatched outfits, smiled but seldom spoke. Some people greeted them, some scowled. One evening, a subdued Bush stood alone, hands in his pockets. Someone asked him, “Where’s that girlfriend of yours, what’s her name? Honeybun?” Bush leveled his eyes at the man and said evenly, “Alice. Her name was Alice Bush.” Bush turned away and stood by the table for a minute, then left. He was seen again, from time to time, but less often, and then not at all.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

Josh