“I would like to be friends but my superficial clique, family, and that random guy in the corner don´t approve.”

“I really thought we had a connection!”, the writer remarks as he shifts in his seat at the cafe by the beach.

“I enjoyed our time working on the great Emperor penguin migration–you did top notch work. But alas, writer, I don´t friend coworkers–it makes emotions, feelings… you know, just makes things awkward when I fire you.”

“But”, he replies as he leans forward, “you don´t want to get a coffee sometime?”

I pause; excellent counter-arguement.

“You bring up a good point writer–that is a consideration.”

“I mean–I would even pay for the coffee.”

“Oh man!”, I reply as I lean forward, “you drive a tough bargain, writer.  Would it have 2 creams and 1 sugar?”

I pause; I´m getting sucked into the trap.

I continue talking as I lean back, “no, I can´t.  I´m made up my mind.  We will simply be boss-writer.  You have too many problems that I would be bringing into my family life–I value my family and want to make sure that I am not causing hardships on the home front.”

“That´s interesting”, he replies as he leans back, “I would also buy you biscottis.”

I pause; he just won´t take no for an answer.

“I don´t think that you respect my decision, writer.  I know that it would be a great time–but, I need to look at the big picture.  I can´t just half-cock decisions–I have to go full way.”

I pause; that´s a horrible mental image.

“I don´t know what to say”, he replies as he turns his head to look out the window.

“Don´t say anything”, I reply as I take a sip of coffee, “let this just be a moment.”

“Ok?”

“That did sound strange, right?”

“Slightly.”

“Yeah.”

“So are you picking up the tab or me?”

“I got it, writer”, I reply as I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a digitaltarjeta, “but, I want to continue working together–you have spunk.  I don´t have enough spunk in my life–you light a fire that we need around here.”

“I can spunk anytime you want.”

I pause; I roll my eyes.

“So anyways”, I reply as put my hand in the air to signal the waiter, “we´ll ask the waiter, his opinion.”

The waiter walks over; I hand him the digitaltarjeta.

“Excuse me, waiter”, I say as I lean back, “do you think that this gentleman and I should be friends?”

He pauses; oh man… I´m just trying to get through my shift.

“No”, he replies as he turns his head to the writer, “you always pick up his tab–it´s not a relationship built on trust, support and respect, admiration, hero worshipping, I could continue.  I think that this man is a leech, a parasite; he is using you for his biscotti and coffee consumption.  Nothing more.”

I pause; oh wow!

“No”, I reply as I turn my head from the writer to the waiter, “go on–say how you really feel.”

Jamie Smith
therenegadeinc@gmail.com

It's all about the story, man.



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