Tuesday, August 05, 2008
A friend lent me an absorbing novel that, engrossed in it though I was, did not entirely deviate my attention from the two old Texas ladies who shuffled into the coffee shop this afternoon; one clutched a giftcard and acted as translator for the other, who I suppose cannot speedily conduct customer service-provider interactions any longer. They haltingly discussed everything on the menu as if making some grievous, ineradicable commitment that could possibly lead to their deaths if not properly played. The non-communicative one settled for a mango smoothie, which I genuinely hope went down well. I kept shifting my feet and pulling my hands in and out of my pockets as I stood there nervously behind them. They were inhaling my youth through their nostrils, and it made me twitchy.
Life is meaningless, I am an empty being, and I will commit seppuku if I ever become old.
Labels: coffee shop, giftcard, menu, old ladies, senility, seppuku, smoothie, translator, twitching, youth
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:17 PM]