Twenty-three… thirty odd hours have passed since I’d met the girl who gave me the sandwich.
We had become quite close;
So close we shared a pair of seats.
(But only once the coach became too full.)
“I’m hungry.” She said abruptly with notes of anger.
‘We all are,’ I thought as I sat back and mulled over a more appropriate response to her apoplectic demeanor:
“We have just under 30miles ahead of us, wanna watch a movie with me?”
I asked with hope.
“No.” She dryly replied.
My attempted diversion failed. Try again… why not?
Tulsa(where the girl with the sandwiches was from. Or so I thought)… what’s there to do for kicks there.” I asked
“I’m not from Tulsa…” she said.
“Where are you from?” I asked, confused.
“Settle.” She replied.
I paused. Because at the inception of our acquaintanceship she told me this. But instead of arguing, I thought I’d say something charming, so she’ll forget how insensitive my forgetting was.
“Ah… Seattle: The Windy City.” I said.
Aha! A smile, small laugh.
Difficult to execute when thinking you might die of starvation.