Lizard boy

Sitting at a coffee shoppe, working. There's a little boy here, speaking to a lizard he has on his arm. He doesn't seem to notice me.

“They paid the bill,” he tells the lizard, his eyes bouncing from lizard to bill. He gets up, lizard glued to forearm, bill on the table and disappears through the door.

I smile, “Cute!” I think, another thought quickly follows, “ If he were an adult I would have said crazy instead of cute.”

The lizard boy magically reappears and saunters up to me, little lizard lazing on forearm. “ Nice laptop! “ he comments, his lizard in my face.

“Lizard or laptop?” I think about which he would prefer. “What's that I say?” ogling the lizard, fingers still on the keyboard.

“A lizard.” he says curtly.

“Oh!” I remark, “Where did you get it?”

“In the park.” he says, his eyes fixed on his little pet.

“What's its name?”

“Kristy,” he answers and then laughs a little.

I wonder if he is mocking the little lizard.

“Kristy? How do you spell that?” 

He laughs again, “Well I don't know, that's too hard.”

I can see the little lizards heart pounding hard against its chest, it still has its tail. “And what's your name?”

“Sky.”

I don't bother asking him to spell that. “How long have you had Kristy?”

“I just got it now.”

“And for how long are you going to have him?”

“Oh forever,” he says, then leaves me with my cold laptop.