The man before me smiled what I called a quarter-hearted smile. A smile one smiled just for the sake of smiling. I did not like him now, but it had not always been the case.

"Tell me something," I asked, "why are you so arrogant?"

The quarter-hearted smile hung there. "Am I?"

"Yes, you are. Look at you."

Many thanxes to this person, who, in hating two-timers, has inspired this entry.

two-timer: n 1: someone who deceives a lover or spouse by carrying on a sexual relationship with somebody else 2: a person who says one thing and does another

The girl passed him just off the 300-m mark.

Ali looked up from his watch with surprise. Few joggers passed him. No girls ever had. Not when he was at his usual running pace.

A shrewd database administrator, Ali prided himself on being the fittest person in the entire IT department. While most would prefer the gym, he liked running better. Almost every evening -- sometimes whatever left of a DBA's life started at 9 or 10 PM -- he jogged for five kilometers. Seven on weekends.

How can you tell if it is going to be a long day? When it starts the way a joke does. So that morning a marketing director, a musician, and a computer programmer met at The Gates of Heaven. Only there was no St. Peter to greet them and ask questions since The Gates of Heaven -- Gates, for short -- was just one of those indiscreet coffeeshops downtown.