Robert's day started slowly, as do most of his days. He got up, had a small (for Robert, at least) breakfast, and was out the door. He wanted to get down to The Prado for the housing sales; and as such he hobbled his way over there. There was nothing much interesting to him; nothing really caught his eye, there were some people standing around talking real-estate, a few kids playing what looked to be some butchered form of the game of baseball, and one gentleman off to one side of the cul-de-sac. This particular gentleman didn't exactly appear to be a gentleman, but rather a guy. Robert just came into the habit of referring to all unknown men as gentlemen; it showed respect. This guy wore an old, dusty baseball cap that looked worn; which was the only real way to describe a baseball cap as well-used as that one. It provided a sense of friendliness and warmth that only comes from an ex-baseball player. One who spent his childhood, some of his teenage years, and a few of his older days in an old dusty baseball diamond that, to the untrained eye, looked like a field of weeds. Robert put on his friendly facade that allowed people to think of him as a friendly, warmhearted guy; the kind of guy who you meet once, exchange a few words with and then remember for the rest of your life, and said, "Hi there."

The man didn't reply; but Robert noticed the man standing by a stack of old baseball paraphernalia. Mostly, he noticed a picture of an old baseball player; one he remembered and was quite fond of, so he quickly offered a second attempt at an introduction: "Baseball stuff, huh?" being just as neighborly and friendly as he knew how.

"Yeah," the guy said, obviously taken aback by a stranger, "just some old baseball stuff."

"You know that guy?" Robert asked.

"No." the man responded in a tone Robert knew as an unfortunate truth.

"It's kind of a neat picture, huh? The kid looks like he's on top of the world."

"How do you think that feels?" the guy asked in a distant voice.

There was a long pause, as if the guy was remembering something, only broken when Robert asked bluntly, "Can I take it?"The ex-baseball player stared at him for a second, "The picture, I mean. I don't know if you want it..."

"Take it, by all means." he replied, obviously feeling somewhat forced as Robert picked the picture up off of the stack of old baseball equipment and memorabelia. "I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Robert Whittlesey." he said glancing over his shoulder, picture in hand, walking away from Spencer.

Robert woke up a whole 7 minutes early this morning: 6:43 this morning. Of course, he had to wake up as it was Casa de Waffle's annual free waffle day. Which didn't really matter to Robert as paying the dollar and thirty seven cents that a waffle costs really was not on the list of his priorities. What was on the list however, was the young lady he bumped into the previous day. The one who fascinated him and managed to captivate him all day. The same one who shot any glimmer of productivity out of Robert for the day.
The waffle and cup of coffee were good, which is far better that average for an establishment as poorly run as Casa de Waffle. The cup of coffee, despite still being coffee, made Robert feel much better and cleared his thoughts a little bit. He settled up at the counter and left, putting his coat on as he walked out the door, stopping to hold it open for the customers walking in. He was about to let it go when a young woman walked in, smiled at him, and walked inside. She smiled a smile so enthralling Robert could hardly believe she was real. He was lost in a dumbfounded stupor as he walked out of the restaurant. He wanted to go back, he wanted to introduce himself, and he wanted to ask her if she was doing anything later but he didn't. He simple went and sat down on a bench across the street. He sat there and he waited. He waited for the young beauty to walk out so he could talk to her, and that's just what he did. He walked up beside her and introduced himself, she replied with the name "Mary", and he talked to Mary for a short while, the usual jabbering on about the whether, the traffic at the moment, and so on. And after an all too short period of time, they parted ways and Robert made her a promise, a small, harmless promise. And he left, to go do nothing with his day as he tried to do as little work as possible.

Robert woke up with a warm grogginess of a good night's sleep. The kind of feeling that prevents all forms of productiveness. He got out of bed and went about his usual, deliberate morning routine. Amazingly, he left apartment 29B in a shockingly speedy 39 minutes and walked the short distance to the small elevator. He took the shorter ride down to the lobby and took his first steps out of the elevator when a young lady bumped into him. He was taken by surprise and had little time to react before the elevator doors closed and left him facing the steel doors with a stupid smile on his face and a raised hand in an attempted wave."Good morning," he said before he realized that he was just standing there, dumbfounded, and turned around and quickly left the building.
Robert continued all day to think about the young lady and always caught and chastised himself for being so immature and childish. He didn't know the woman, and certainly was incapable of having feelings for her. He hadn't even gotten the chance to say so much as "hello."
By lunchtime, Robert had all but forgotten about the young lady. In fact, he was unable to think about anything else and decided to go ahead and clock-out for the day.
He was on his way back to the apartment building when he noticed a blind beggar on the side-walk. He loved beggars. They were such interesting people. They were the people of the streets, and as such they knew all there was to know about them. He didn't have the time, or rather, place of mind, to stop and chat so he dug into his pockets and pulled out all the change he had and held it in his open hand as he neared the blind man. He glanced at it, wished the man the best of luck, dropped the contents into the cup, and continued on his "walk" home. "One dollar and twenty seven cents," he thought to himself as he walked away.
"The truth with all its power lies inside me." yelled the blind man to Robert.
"I'll keep that in mind," said Robert as he turned the corner.
He got to apartment 29B, opened the door, and crashed on the couch. He lay there for two hours and forty six minutes before he fell asleep, just thinking. About nothing in particular: the young woman, the blind beggar, what the blind beggar had said. And it wasn't until he woke up that he stopped thinking about the young lady for a couple minutes and realized he was starving.
He got up, made sure he was presentable and left for Casa de Waffle to grab some dinner. When he arrived he chose his usual seat, sat down and ordered. He sat there thinking for a few minutes until the waitress served him his cup of coffee. She also left him some coffee creamers, but Robert didn't need them. He drank his coffee black. He didn't know why, he didn't even particularly like coffee. If he thought about it, he really much preferred a cold glass of milk to the bitter black liquid in the mug in front of him. But he drank it anyway.
Just as he finished his first cup of coffee, the blind beggar walked into the restaurant. He was hollering about something and sat down to eat his waffle, still shouting. Robert didn't know what he was yelling about, he tuned him out and just mulled over what he had said earlier, about the truth. He spent the next eighteen minutes eating his dinner, perfectly deliberately, and thinking. The waitress gave him his bill, he glanced at it and went back to staring at the beggar, pulled out his wallet and pulled the three bills out, left them on the table and left the restaurant.
Robert walked slowly home, still just thinking. The walk took twenty-four minutes and when he got home, he went straight to bed, didn't even bother undressing. He just lay down on his bed and put himself to sleep with his own thoughts.

The day started slowly for Robert Whittlesey. Most days started slowly for Robert Whittlesey. He was a slow guy. Not unintelligent by any standards, but slow nonetheless. His mother always used to say he did things deliberately. He always thought how wonderful that was. That he could take all the time in the world and he could simply use the excuse that he did things deliberately.
Forty-seven minutes had passed since Robert had woken up. He was deliberately finishing his breakfast of a bowl of cereal. He put his bowl in the sink, quite deliberately. After his breakfast, Robert got dressed and ready for work, deliberately enough to take another thirty-nine minutes. But eighty-six minutes was relatively fast for Robert Whittlesey. It meant that he would get to work with round-abouts ten minutes to spare, provided he wasn't too deliberate about his walk to the bus stop.
Robert Whittlesey was an extremely deliberate walker. So much so that referring to his mode of bipedal transportation as "walking" was quite incorrect. Where one would walk, Robert might slowly stroll or perhaps even waddle. His manner of "walking" wasn't completely his fault. Robert Whittlesey had put on some weight after years of living deliberately. He was by no means obese, but slightly more heavy-set than your average middle aged man. Robert had put on his weight from years of sitting at a desk, designing and testing assorted pieces of ingeniously designed creations
Robert Whittlesey was an engineer. His life consisted of the soft hum and bright glow of a computer screen in a dimly lit cubicle. The hours he spent in the small, soft paneled room contributed to his deliberate lifestyle. His job required it. When Robert made a mistake, peoples life were at risk. Which made Robert smile, he was sort of like a god in the situation. But nevertheless, Robert always worked hard, diligently, and of course deliberately.