Dialogue

“Are you lactose intolerant?” he asked.

“No, I’m just not coming back for a long time,” I said. “Wow, your hands are like swans’ feet. You’re an expert packer.”

“They train us,” he explained.  “’The Pornographer’s Poem.’ Looks interesting. How is it?”

“It’s amazing! I’m doing a re-read. It’s about a radical teacher and these kids who make films. You’d probably like it if you’re into those kinds of things.”

“Well, I’m into radical people doing radical things. But I don’t know about that other stuff.”

“Oh, come on. Who isn’t into film?”

“There’s lipstick on your teeth,” he said.

“Oh, thanks. So do you want to borrow it?”

“What? Maybe. Sorry, I was distracted by all this cheese. There’s no price on the brie. How much do you want to pay for it?”

“Three twenty-nine,” I said. “That’s my birthday.”

“Oh!” he said. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, but I was lying.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll borrow the book.”

“Cool. Here’s my business card. Ignore how it looks like a great aunt’s wallpaper; the graphics were free.”

“So we’re doing business now, too?”

“No, but you have to know where to drop it off when you’re done,” I explained.

“Oh, right. You can swipe whenever you’re ready,” he said.

“Okay. Well, here’s the book. Don’t steal it or spill anything weird on it, please. Coffee or tomato sauce is fine, but nothing green. Green bugs me.”

“Nothing green. You got it. Thanks a lot. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Great. Thank YOU, Packstrordinaire.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Have a good day.”

"Bye."