The first girl’s boyfriend has appeared, overhanging with
sophomore affection. “Do you want some tea? I can get whatever has the most
caffeine, if you want.”
“Black raspberry Italian soda?”
Claimed by a 14- or 24-year-old olivey-skinned wrestler type with
blond curly.
“Semi-sweet hot chocolate?”
Claimed by Italian soda’s Other. Possibly his mother. Or his
sister. Upon arrival, it appeared that she was his girlfriend, standing
surprisingly close. But now, probably
his mom.
Pot of Pear Tea is watching an entertaining and noisy video
on her phone.
“We should paint chairs and sell them.”
“What does paint stripper cost? Does it come in a bucket?
I’ll google it.”
“My sisters go to Catholic school. They don’t know
anything.”
Arrival of the Pear Tea’s pot. She has no seat. I offer her
the other half of my table. “Oh, that’s so nice of you. But I’m actually
meeting someone.”
No worries. She looks like my friend Laura. Incidentally, I
have many friends named Laura. The one in question is currently the farthest
away and least likely to walk into this place.
Semi-sweet says, “They actually wrote this book, The Five Love Languages.” Italian soda
sips away.
I have read this book. A few times. A long time ago.
It doesn’t take much not to mention this.
“I bet I got points off because it was three pages long
instead of two.”
“Did you use in-text citations?”
“I always use
in-text citations.”
“Maybe it was because you turned it in late?”
“No, it was excused
late. That’s what it says in the gradebook.”
“Claire, maybe your margins were off? Did you have your last
name at the top and –“
“No I always do it perfect –“
Claire is adamant that she did everything right. She’s been
doing it that way since, like, seventh grade. I manage to avoid turning around
and asking exactly how long ago that was, really.
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