Jim grew restless as the conversation he was not a part of shifted from random gossip to the best place for brunch. Clearly, the ladies were content with getting in their own way. Initially, he was interested, but could not show it, for fear of being excommunicated from the table. No one had set any ground rules for him, Jim could just tell that this was a very delicate situation. He was a guest in his native town. In fact, he was positive that he had lost a shovel around here. It was plastic and at this moment, Jim was directly in front of Tower 22. He confirmed that this was the same location. The two palms that blocked the pavement of the road, behind the tower where still bent and pointing to the left. In one of the day’s oddities, this beach looked exactly the same as it did when he was a child. Jim realized he was surprised, because he often defaulted to the mindset of someone who was constantly looking to evoke change through redevelopment. There was really no reason for the prefix in front of development. Jim was not making any positive adjustments despite what his presentations to the city’s planning commission had conveyed. As a developer, the ‘de’ could have just as easily been attached to the letters ‘struction’. That would have been more apropos and honest. Jim had always struggled with being honest. Remember he was the creative one, which should have been amended to cretin. But that was Woody’s voice. Why did Jim have to hear that? All of this was streaming rapidly from the back of Jim’s brain to the front. Yet, his cognitive receptors were getting the point. He was hungry and his career path was not without privilege. Jim had dined in the best restaurants that coastal Florida had to offer. He readied himself to speak, because his experiences extended in all directions, beyond Boca Raton and the county of Palm Beach. The women were discussing politicians, athletes and actors, and where they could be found. Or more importantly, where they themselves, could be seen. Perhaps, Jim’s mind was not as quick as it often seemed. Maybe menus had never been discussed, maybe none of the ladies had ever looked his way. Maybe he had lost his shovel in front of Tower 21. That last query was the one he liked best. Jim stood up and removed himself from the conversation. And then a lady grabbed his wrist and asked him to stay. This time the prefix ‘re’ was not creative enough, this time Jim had gotten in his own way.