Twenty-six exactly

Smarter this time, he crossed after checking that my suburban had actually stopped at the red light. Every morning on my way out to the clinic, I see this kid walking on the gravel shoulder in the blue black pre-dawn.

I like him. He reminds me of myself back in my independent student days, (I imagine I'd have rocker hair like that if I didn't wear it short).
Usually I just see the blur of his red coat, but today he was ahead of me.
I overslept, which isn't allowed in my line of work. Trying to make up time, I was rushing and a bit frantic, wondering if the Glock ponies had already been fed, or if that really old chocolate lab was still unconscious. The roads are deserted and here I am stuck at the only red light in town - practically the only light in town.

That's when I noticed the jut of his profile in front of me. He was still in the road, one foot over the white line, oblivious to anything other than up. It looked like mid-step he'd been arrested by some marvel in the sky, and he'd turned to stone, frozen to the muddy earth. I craned my neck under the windshield in time to glimpse a V of geese heading off towards Berryville.
Yeah, it's winter, geese do fly.

Brett Rosser called in about injections for his llama herd; the chocolate lab was conscious and proudly making messes everywhere, and I had to let my assistant know in no uncertain terms that even if her boyfriend in the marines was leaving in a month, she needed to stop texting him every three minutes. Crystal, this is exactly what you get when you oversleep and skip breakfast, I told myself. By eleven, my internal stress-sensor was indicating a coffee break was the only sane option.

He pulls a couple of shots, tamping the esspresso with with short hands attached to tatooed forearms.
"You walk to work every morning?" I ask.
"Yeah. I don't live too far, and I'm a morning person."
"Well, be careful. I think I saw you out today - you stopped in the middle of the road like you forgot that semis exist."
"I did?"
He hands me my latte, and takes my wadded cash.
"You stood and stared at the sky. It was a good thing I was stuck at a red light. I'm not a particularly morning person."
"It was the geese - they," His voice strained a moment, "flew. In formation. They flew together."

Was this kid a tech-addict, had he lived in a basement all his life?
"I know, it looks like a V. Haven't you seen that before?"
"Nah, I have."
"So what was different?"

I have my change, crisp new bills, and there are a few people waiting behind me, but I want to know.
"Well," and his eyes widen, "there were twenty-six exactly."