At the Bar

They're looking for a guy to talk to them.

How do you know?

Remember when we were at that art show?

Yeah. It was terrible.

I know. But we still wanted girls to talk to us.

Good point.

It doesn't matter that one of them plays for a terrible touch football team. Or that they're coming from a wine bar. Or that they must be in their mid-thirties. Or that their names are bland, and stale, and easy to forget.

What matters is that they got into their cab. And drove away. And could have easily met you. But didn't.