“How is the business job going?”
“Quite well, thank you. Business is jobby.”
“That's the truth and a half!”
“More like one point three truths, according to studies. How are your aimless artistic misadventures?”
“Today I thought about making a thing. Tomorrow I might make it. Then I will face the fact that I have no way to cause strangers to watch, hear, or read it.”
“Isn’t that always the way?”
“Isn’t it just?”
See? How hard is that? There’s a formula. There’s a formula to human conversation. You pour the tea, you act interested. It’s stupid, it’s superficial, and god how I miss it.
Me? I’m just sitting with this stranger in the void. Drinking her tea. Listening to her give me weird love advice that I didn’t ask for.
I want to demand where she thinks we are, who she thinks I am.
I want to tell her that once she’s done giving me love advice, she may as well give me suntan lotion.
But I don’t want to argue, because I’ve been raised to do the stupid thing. The polite thing. To drink tea and act interested.
And, sadly, it’s just nice to hear another voice.