stormy weather [on hold]

4 | four | quatre

She put on the kettle. He had asked for tea when she asked him what he would like to drink. Then he sat down at table - the only piece of furniture besides the bed - and clasped his hands together. He looked very English.

They talked about the weather. They talked about jobs and school and politics. The thing that you should know was that both of the were champion small-talkers. They could small-talk all day, without so much as asking the other person their name.

After a bit, she sighed. "Okay, I guess I'll address the elephant in the room."

"Which would be?" his English accent came in. It appeared whenever he was lying or didn't want to talk about something.

"Last night."

"It never happened."

"It must certainly did!"

"Well, what's there to talk about? I was drunk, you were drowning. Nothing else."

She stared at him as if he was a dentist trying to fix a toilet. "Well, why did you come here if not to talk about last night? What else would there be to talk about besides small-talk?"

"I want to know your name."

She threw her hands up and sighed. "Isn't that just peachy? You want to know my name but not why I was trying to drown myself last night?"

He shrugged. "Why you were trying to drown yourself is your personal business. I just came for a name."

She sighed and shook her head. "It's Sadie."

"Fletcher."

And then he finished the last of his tea and left.

-

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