I loved autumn, a season both riotous and melancholy, and it was best shared with those I loved. Thus I spent a great amount of time with Norm. We shared a mutuality which spanned the insignificant to the more complex modes of thought in such a way that neither of us felt compelled, nor hindered, to speak. As comfortable in each other's company as we were alone, our relationship did not possess the usual tensions and expectations so prevalent in most friendships. That we enjoyed each other was enough. Through the week, Norm worked second shift as a custodian at a local junior high school. Since he didn't depart for work until 3:00 p.m., his daily routine at home usually consisted of leisurely activities, lest he become too tired to properly do his work. We shared the upstairs, which was divided into two separate rooms with an accordian door, providing privacy that was sufficient, yet far from sound proof. Generally we would wake around the hour of 9:00 a.m. Either the static notes of his clock radio or a rustling which attested to his hastily making the bed would usher through the door, and harken the beginning of another day, or I would rise first and find Norm staring at the ceiling among an entangled mass of sheets. The person who made it downstairs first was the one who, if Mom had made some for herself and Dad, divided the morning "gruel." Since the family had recently acquired a microwave oven, the machine allowed a quick and thorough heating of the cereal if one simply transferred the contents of the pan into stoneware bowls. Because several hours had passed between Mom's preparation of the cereal and our reheating of the same, it usually molded itself into a solid bulk shaped exactly to the pan's dimensions. This made dividing easier but deftness was needed to assure that each half found its way into the bowl. On one particular occasion Norm, spatula poised in hand, was directing each slimy mass into its bowl when one half escaped his control and proceeded to flop onto the counter, splat on the floor and go skidding across the waxed tile. I found this affair to be thoroughly amusing as it was in the same scenario which I had starred only a week before. Perhaps it would not have been so humorous if the cereal did not have such a nasty appearance, which in itself would seem to ward off any potential consumer. Moreover, hot cereal had quite a lengthy history between Norm and me.