Please be aware that this story contains harsh language.
I look at my phone once more, wondering if I should send this text. It’s an innocent text, really. Or at least, I mean it in an innocent way.
Hey! Glad it worked out for us to meet up for dinner! Stay in touch and let me know the next time you’re in town!
Too many exclamation points? Probably. Three is a bit too much. Maybe I’ll get rid of the middle one, and just open and close with-
Glass shatters in the kitchen, and I look up. “Fuck!” I hear my roommate cursing, definitely with an exclamation point. “What happened?” I ask, trying to sound like I share some of his frustration, but to be honest, I don’t.
“Shifting glassware, that’s what. Shitty, shifting glassware. Shitty, shifting, shattered glassware.”
He steps carefully out of the kitchen and grabs a vacuum, promptly turning it on and sending out a horrible droning sound. He vacuums the pieces of glass, then flips the machine off.
“That’s a horrible sound.” He says, sharing a profound insight about the universe. “Horrible, horrible.” I nod, with nowhere to go but to agree with him. I turn my attention back to my phone, trying to frame the message in just the right way – Not too forward, but confidant enough to show appropriate interest.
Hey! Glad it worked out for us to meet up for dinner. Stay in touch and let me know the next time you’re in town!
Texting is a terrible way to communicate. I should call. But no, calling is a bit too forward; a text is fine, really. But if I stall any longer, it’s going to be too late to send. It already is a little late. I’m not sure what she would think to get a text from me at 11:49 at night. I should probably wait until tomorrow to send-
“Do you want a banana?”
I look up from my phone to see my roommate, offering me a banana. I look at him, puzzled.
“Um. Sure. Why are you offering me a banana?”
“I brought it from the office, but I ate a huge dinner, and it’s gonna go bad if somebody doesn’t eat it tonight”
I examine the banana. It appears untainted, so I take it.
I look back at my phone. 11:51. Probably too late to send a follow up text about going out for dinner the next time she’s in town, at least in this context. I don’t want to seem like a creepy late-night text sender, so tomorrow morning it is. I save the text as a draft.
I start to peel the banana, but the stem snaps off. My roommate chuckles, and shuffles out of the room.
“Glad to see that life is working for you, my friend.” He mutters, jovially. “Glad to see it.”