random dialogue

I never wanted this, Kayla sighs. She drinks from her almost empty cup, but still saves a drop for a next sip. She’s not about to order more coffee, and this place doesn’t give refills.

It’s a matter of principle, not to pay for more than one cup. She’s from small town country, city mores infect her brain with hatred and distrust.

Why did you do it? Zed asks. He’s eating a croissant, pulverizing it with his lips and teeth, crumbs cascading down his chin and onto his knees. Kayla is disgusted, but she wants this conversation.

I just did, kind of to see if I could, and then the consequences started piling up. Are you enjoying your croissant?

Zed wipes off his chin. It’s good, he says. Not too dry. Usually when you get croissants in places like this they’re all dried up, none of that juicy fat for which you order them.

Juicy fat? Kayla frowns. She takes the last sip of her coffee. Let’s go, she says.

So now what? Zed asks, discovering the bread on his knees. Now, life goes on, Kayla responds. She gets up. Just a lot shittier than before.

That’s intolerable, Kayla. You can’t resign like that. Other people are affected.

What can I do? It’s not in my hands.

You can commit seppuku, to name one thing. Or you can offer to resign.

Yeah. I could. But life goes on, and I’m gonna still be here. It’ll get better.

Both get up. Zed leaves some bills. Don’t give a tip, Kayla says. They don’t deserve your generosity.

What’s wrong with you? Nobody forced you to come here. Why don’t you go back to your parents?

There is no way back. There’s only forward and that leads through this filthy swamp, we’re already knee-deep into.

I don’t experience it as a swamp. It’s just a city, and city people.

Corporate. Kayla spits out the word.

Oh God. Corporate. Corporate corporate corporate fuck fuck fuck

Ok, settle down. Where is your car? Let me walk you to your car.

My car is… why? How are you, on foot?

No, I took a bus.

You can ride with me.

Thanks. You still have crumbs all over you, it’ll spill onto your seat.

So really, what now?

I’m just going to delete and forget everything. Just move forward, blind. Become… one of… them, you.

A city-person?

Yeah.

Zed is silent, considers this.

What does that even mean? He asks.

We’ll find out.

They get into the car, a red-and-black Honda Civic, and indeed, crumbs do spill on the seats.