I'm not Jerry

I was having lunch at a local coffee shop when I noticed a fellow enter the cafe with a large cardboard box.  I actually noticed him before he came in - my table had a clear view of the sidewalk outside.  At first, I thought he was a delivery guy but when he got inside he placed the box on a table behind me instead of bringing it to the staff.  After setting the box down, he went to the counter.  I assumed he was going there to order a drink.  I went back to staring out the window.

Within a few minutes, the man reappeared.  He didn't have a drink, so I don't know where he'd been, maybe the restroom.  This time, he approached my table, caught my attention and said, "You're Jerry."  He didn't state it like a question.  He said it with conviction, as if he was making me Jerry.  He used the same inflection one would use when tagging someone, "You're it."  For a moment, he almost had me convinced that I was, indeed, Jerry.  But, I'm not Jerry and so I shook my head at him.  "Sorry," he said as he stepped away and settled into a chair at the table behind me.  I wasn't certain if he was sorry he'd interrupted me or sorry I wasn't Jerry.  I suspected it was more the latter.  The man seemed anxious to find Jerry.

As I finished my lunch, I could hear the man with the box behind me.  He sounded restless, anxious even.  I started watching the people entering the cafe, wondering which one would be Jerry.  I heard some more rustling from behind and the man got up and left with his box.  He didn't go far, though.  He sat down at a sidewalk table just outside the coffee shop.  I was pleased by this change as he was now directly in my line of sight.  Now, I could watch him as he fidgeted and looked expectantly at each passer by.  I could also get a better look at the box, its contents apparently destined for Jerry.  It was a big box and had no markings to give away what might be inside.  I was curious, but my lunch hour was almost up.  Still, we waited for Jerry.

Perhaps I had been a bit too hasty in denying being Jerry.  The real Jerry appeared to be seriously tardy.  Perhaps I should approach the man and tell him I changed my mind, that I am Jerry after all.  I don't think he would care - he seemed like he'd be happy with any Jerry at this point.  I was a little annoyed with Jerry.  This guy had been waiting with his box for awhile now.

As I left the coffee shop, I passed by the man with box.  He looked up at me with the same hopeful eyes he used on everyone else; even though he already knew I wasn't Jerry.  Maybe he was hoping I'd be Jerry for him, just this once.