Snapshot
“Whatever, they won’t let me quit,” he said, reaching for another grilled shrimp.
“They have to let you quit,” she responded. Shrimp juice bubbled at the corners of his mouth, threatening to spill over.
He tossed his napkin and shrimp tail on a nearby table. Within seconds, it was whisked away by a blank-faced waiter.
“Well, yeah, they’ll let me quit but they’re just making it hard,” he shrugged.
“You’re being lazy then?” she countered.
The city twinkled before them, unmarred by this tireless conversation. “Not lazy. I’m not lazy, I’m….”
“Unmotivated?” she offered.
“No, I’m motivated. It’s $50 a month. That’s motivation. I’m….”
Until he found the word, she couldn’t leave. And although this whole exchange bored her, it would bother her more to walk away. The perfect word was there somewhere.
“Recalcitrant? Resigned?”
The light went off in his eyes. “Yes, I guess that’s it — resigned. It’s the closest thing.” In a window across from him, a woman gestured wildly while on the phone.
She turned and rested her back against the cold pane. The table skirts didn’t match, she noticed. And the chardonnay tasted gamey.
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