Casual Conversations

She wiped the tears from her cheeks using the flat of her hand, wiping them to the sides of her face. She shuddered, then started to giggle. She sniffed, blew her nose in a paper napkin, straightened her back and said, “I’m amazing.”

Two women sitting at the same table with her looked up curiously. One sitting to her left wore a red pullover, her lipstick in the exactly same color. She smiled and leaned over to her giving her all her attention.

The girl continued in a high, scratchy voice, “I must be the only person in the world who would get this right.”

“What did you do?” the one dressed in red asked as the other friend took a sip of her tea. She didn’t look interested; her eyes glanced through the coffee shop, met mine briefly, then glazed over and stared into the distance.

“I drove over to the Office Centre to buy a new ink cartridge and only realized when I stood there in front of the counter, faced with a million different types, that I had forgotten to write down which one I needed.”

“Yeah, so?” the one sipping tea said absent-mindedly.

The girl glanced at her, then smiled and looked back at the girl wearing red. She said, “Well I just bought one. I closed my eyes, pointed one out in the rack, paid for it and returned home not giving it another thought.”


“And when I got home, I found out it was the exact one I needed, and you know what I did.”


“I texted Gerry.”

The girl who was sipping tea started fumbling in her bag, looking for something. I could hear keys rattling.

The one wearing the red pullover was still leaning over to her, her elbows on the table, her face intrigued.

“Do you know what I sent him?” She started pushing buttons on her phone. “Here it is, right, listen,” she said, “I’m amazing. Do you want to know what your little girlfriend did, your amazing, fantastic, beautiful, intelligent girlfriend did? Well she has gone to Office Centre to buy a new ink cartridge for the printer and … well I forgot to write down the cartridge number and finding myself face to face with millions and millions of types of cartridges and not knowing which one I needed had the brains and the insight to buy exactly the right one.”

“And what did he reply?”

“Oh, not much just that he was in a meeting and he couldn’t be disturbed.” Then they laughed, except the one drinking tea she got up. “I have to go,” she said while putting on her coat, “I need to do some more shopping.” She walked over to the door, ‘I need to buy an ink cartridge,” she mumbled over her shoulder to her friends, “how exciting.”

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