Left Her Hanging

I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, so the sight of her on the subway platform with a purple cane worries me somewhat, and I ask after her health.

She tells me, with a quizzical look, that she sprained her ankle, adding (as if she’s reminding me), “Like I texted you.”

When I tell her I didn’t have any texts from her, she shows me the text asking me for help from a few weeks ago - sent, unfortunately, to an entirely different Scott.

“Oh! I just thought you were out of town!” she exclaims. 

That’s Cold

“Even though I can’t be compelled to testify against you, even if you did something really awful, I wouldn’t rat you out,” I tell Katie as we walk home from the ramen place through the cold night. “Like even if you shot a baby.”

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure you would,” she replies.

“So how am I not supposed to take offense to that?” I ask.

Danger Pay for Help Line Operators

“So could you please repeat the number on the device?” the help line operator asks over the sounds of shouting and chaos in the background.

“Everything okay over there?” I reply, half joking.

“Yes, we just had another earthquake here, but I think everything is okay now,” he laughs nervously.

“Listen, dude, if it gets unsafe, don’t even say goodbye, just hang up and go,” I tell him earnestly.

Interesting Historical Figures

“Watching any good TV?” the blond, shaggy looking guy behind the counter at the liquor store asks as I bring up a bottle of wine.

“Well, we just finished the final season of Peaky Blinders,” I say after a moment’s thought. We discuss it for a while (he’s still on the first season), and I mention that the current season has interesting historical figures - “...including Oswald Mosley, the British fascist!”

I can already tell he’s tuned out, though, and the next customer is coming up behind me, so I bid everyone a semi-hasty good night and head out without elaboration.

What’s Good For Me?

When I wake up, still on the couch, the guy on the video is still slicing fruit, but I have no idea what’s going on, so I tell Katie, “I fell asleep.”

“Time for bed!” she says, and so naturally I sit there staring at my phone, flipping through memes, for another twenty minutes.

“Oh my God, you’re in pain,” she says, looking at me hunched over with a scowl on my face as I stare into my glass brick at pictures of cats. “Just go to bed."

Let Him Be

I walk into the pizza place during my lunch break, nerves still jangling from a busy selling floor, and ask for a couple of slices.

After the guy behind the counter slides them into the oven to reheat, I turn around to survey the place, only to see a guy I work with eating a couple of slices of his own and watching videos on his phone.

He doesn’t see me, and I think about whether or not to disturb him - we’re friendly, but not friends, and I pretty sure he didn’t come to this place to make conversation.

So I let him be, and, after I get my slices, slide into a booth that allows me to sit facing the same direction as he’s facing so he can watch his phone unmolested.

We’re All Pretty Predictable

Katie grabs some stuff from her studio while the cat jumps up on the couch demanding to be fed. I pick the cat up, and needle-sharp claws go into my shoulder as she whines about the indignity of it all.

“I bet you can guess what I’m doing just from that sound,” I say.

“I bet I can,” Katie replies, without looking.