Conversations using only words ranked 6,101–6,200

Mika, are you watching the council results? I have been refreshing this page like it is a football match.

Of course I am watching. My side of town finally has a councillor who actually answers emails. That is a miracle.

Did you see what happened with Dale Harper though? He won his seat, and two days later he jumped to the other party.

Two days! People in his constituency voted for him on Thursday and by Saturday they were represented by someone else's team.

His old friends are furious. One of them called him a traitor live on the radio. I nearly dropped my coffee.

That is strong language. Though honestly, if I had knocked on doors for him all winter, I would feel the betrayal too.

He gave an interview saying his allegiance is to the residents, not to any party colour.

Smooth. He talks like a diplomat who has been sent to calm down two angry countries.

Right? And he kept saying the word together. He really wanted to emphasize that nothing personal had happened.

My neighbour used to be his aide, you know. She made his tea, wrote his speeches, the whole thing.

No way. What does she say about all this?

She just laughed and said he changes his mind more often than a monarch changes hats at a royal parade.

That is beautiful. Some people are questioning the validity of the result now, saying the vote does not really count anymore.

I do not know about that. The votes were real. The promises were the flexible part.

Fair. I will still go to his next public meeting and ask him one very polite question.

Save me a seat, and I will bring snacks. Politics is so much better with company.

Mika, please tell me you have something cheerful for the front page, because everything on my desk is grim.

Sorry, Dan. My morning started with a warehouse blaze downtown. It burned for six hours and the smoke is still hanging over the river.

Six hours? That's awful. Any injuries?

Two firefighters, both stable. But the fallout is the real story. Three hundred people lost their jobs overnight.

So that's why the town council meeting was packed. People are talking about an exodus, families packing up and leaving because there's no work left.

It could get that bad. And your desk? What have you got?

A firearm stolen from a police car, and a squadron of navy jets doing low training flights over the coast. Residents are furious about the noise.

Ha, my aunt lives out there. She says it sounds like a whole troop of soldiers marching across her roof.

That's a great line. Steal it for the piece. Oh, and did you hear what Tomas dropped in the meeting?

No! Tell me. He looked like a cat with a secret all morning.

He's got a scoop. Internal emails showing the warehouse owner ignored fire inspections for two years. Nobody else has it.

That is huge. That's proper investigative work, digging until the truth comes out.

He spent four months on it. And if he's right, ignoring those warnings was disastrous, not just for the building but for the whole neighbourhood.

Then let's give him the front page and push my jobs piece to page three.

Agreed. Heavy day, though. Coffee after we file?

Coffee and something with too much sugar in it. We've earned it.

Okay, Mika, the pan is hot, the tortillas are warm, and I am officially declaring this taco night.

Finally. I have been thinking about this all day at work. What did you put in the beef?

Cumin, a bit of chili, and a spoonful of mustard, believe it or not.

Mustard? In a taco? That is either genius or a crime.

Taste it. It keeps the meat nice and moist instead of dry and sad.

Oh. Okay, that is really juicy. I take back the crime part.

Thank you. Now, beverage decisions. We have a couple of bottles of ale in the fridge, or there is gin if you want something with tonic and lime.

Hmm. Ale with spicy food is lovely, but tonight I want gin and tonic with lots of ice.

Good choice. One ale for me, one gin and tonic for you. Use a coaster, please, the table already has three white rings on it.

Two of those rings are yours, by the way. But fine, coaster, here it goes.

Guilty. Okay, fold, fill, eat. Do not overload it or the whole thing collapses.

Too late. It collapsed on the first bite and I am not sorry.

That is the sign of a good one, honestly.

Right, we should tidy up before the others come home. This is a communal kitchen and people get grumpy about pans.

You wash, I will scrub the pan. There is burnt cheese welded to the bottom.

Soak it in hot water first, then scrub. Otherwise you will be there until midnight.

Wise. Counters wiped, dishes done, and lastly the trash goes out.

You take the trash, I will finish my drink on the sofa. Fair split.

Somehow that is always the split.

Because it works. Same time next week, taco chef?

Same time next week. Bring lime, I will bring the mustard secret.

Okay, be honest. Do you love the wallpaper, or do you hate me for choosing it?

I love it, actually. Those little grey stripes look really chic, like a hotel in Copenhagen.

See? I have taste. Although there is one small defect near the window. The pattern doesn't line up.

Where? Oh, that. Nobody will ever notice that. Put a plant in front of it and call it art.

Deal. Now, the bigger problem. The broadband still isn't working. I've been streaming on my phone all week.

Did you call them? They usually say something like sorry for the inconvenience and then make you wait ten days.

That is exactly what happened. Word for word. Meanwhile the neighbour downstairs has a perfect connection and keeps mentioning it.

That's cruel. Speaking of cruel, what happened to your ceiling light? It's blinding.

I know. I bought the wrong bulb. It's a hundred watt monster. My eyes hurt every evening.

Get the warm ones instead. They're cheaper to run and much more durable, so you're not changing bulbs every few months.

Good point. Can you write that on the list? There's chalk by the kitchen board.

Found it. Bulbs, internet, plant for the wallpaper crime scene. We're midway through and still standing.

Halfway is my favourite part. Coffee, and then we tackle the shelves?

Coffee first, definitely. And if the internet guy calls, let me talk to him. I'm very charming on the phone.

Okay, admit it. You only agreed to this walk because I promised there would be snacks at the end.

Guilty. But look at this field, Dan. The corn is taller than you are.

My uncle says it is going to be a bumper harvest this year. The biggest crop he has had in a decade.

Really? We barely had any rain in July.

That is why he put in new irrigation last spring. There are pipes running under the whole field now, so the water gets to the roots even in a dry spell.

Clever. My grandmother just stood there with a hose and hoped for the best.

Let us cut through the woods here. Careful, the path gets slippery where the ground is all shale.

Oh, I see it. Those thin grey layers that crack apart when you step on them.

Exactly. My cousin studied forestry, and he says this whole woodland is managed on a twenty year cycle.

So someone is actually looking after it? I always assumed woods just did their own thing.

Mostly, but they do pull out the invasive stuff. There is one vine that spreads everywhere and strangles the young trees if nobody stops it.

That sounds like my neighbour's mint. Look, is that a willow down by the stream? Those long branches almost touch the water.

It is. Sit under it for five minutes and you will never want to leave.

Something just ran up that trunk. A squirrel, with something in its mouth.

They squirrel away nuts all over this hillside in autumn, then forget half of them. That is how new trees get planted.

A forgetful gardener. I like that. Oh, and here comes a whole flock of geese over the ridge.

They are heading south already. In a few weeks they will be halfway across the hemisphere.

That is a serious commute. Look, one of them dropped a feather. It is still floating down.

Keep it. Proof that you left the city for one afternoon.

I will put it on my desk. Now, about those snacks you promised.

Okay, sit down, the game is about to start. I saved you the good chair and everything.

Wow, such service. So this is the big one? The whole campus is talking about it.

It is. Our varsity team against last year's champions. Look at number nine, the tall kid.

He looks about twelve years old.

He is only a sophomore, second year, and he is already starting. That is not normal.

Honestly, I would never guess. He moves like a professional footballer already.

Right? And the funny thing is, everyone used to underestimate him because he is skinny.

People always do that. Then the skinny one runs past them all.

Exactly. Oh no. Did you see that? Someone kicked him right on the shin.

Ouch. I can feel that from here. He is limping a little.

He is getting up though. He is waving the trainer away.

That stubborn thing is a good trait for an athlete, I guess, but maybe not for his leg.

His coach said the same thing. Apparently the whole season plan is contingent on his knees staying healthy.

So no pressure at all for a nineteen year old.

None. And people are already calling him a future titan of the sport, which is a lot to put on one kid.

He just scored. He scored on a bad leg. Are you kidding me?

I am on my feet. That is a real accomplishment, playing hurt and still finishing like that.

How long is left? I cannot look at the clock.

Two minutes. Basically a countdown now. Three, two, one, and we win.

Do not say it out loud. Okay, if they hold on, you are buying the ice cream.

Deal. And next time he plays, you are sitting in this chair again. You are clearly lucky.

Finally, my talent is recognized. Now be quiet, ten seconds left.

Mika, did you see the email this morning? Apparently the takeover is going through.

I saw it. Someone is buying our little company, and nobody told us who until page four.

It is not even one company. It is a consortium, three firms teaming up to share the cost.

Three bosses instead of one. That sounds like three times the meetings.

Did you read the whole thing? I confess I skipped to the salary part.

I read it in its entirety, every boring line. Our team keeps its budget, but part of it will be paid in yuan now, since one of the partners is based in Shenzhen.

Yuan? So I get to watch exchange rates every morning like a nervous trader.

Honestly, that is one reason I started to freelance on the side. Different clients, different currencies, and nobody can affect my whole income negatively with one bad quarter.

Wait, you freelance? Since when?

Since spring. Small design jobs, mostly at night. The tricky part is the paperwork. One client wanted verification of my address, my bank, even my old university.

They wanted proof of everything?

Everything. And they would not accept a scan, so I had to send the documents by courier. The poor guy climbed five floors to my flat at seven in the morning.

That is very old fashioned for a global market.

It is, but I understand it. If the numbers are all digital, someone can manipulate them and nobody notices.

Speaking of digital, remember when I lost the client list? I had to retrieve it from an old backup drive in the cupboard.

I remember your face. You looked like you had lost a child, not a spreadsheet.

Fair. So, honest question. If this all goes badly, would you leave and freelance full time?

Maybe. But I would miss arguing with you about coffee. Come on, my treat downstairs.

So, did you actually go to that new clinic on Third Street?

I did. They ran a full cardiovascular check, heart, blood pressure, everything.

And? Still alive?

Barely, after I saw the bill. But the efficacy surprised me. One week and I felt like a new person.

One week? My doctor hands me a pamphlet and wishes me luck.

They asked about caffeine, and I confessed I'm basically a coffee addict.

Aren't we all. Three cups before ten.

The nurse didn't judge me. She said there's too much stigma around admitting you need help.

True. People treat being ill like a personal failure.

My brother worked through the flu just to look tough.

Classic. If I could clone myself, I'd send the copy to work and stay in bed.

One of you is plenty, thanks.

Harsh. Did they push those wellness supplements?

A whole shelf of them, all bragging about the purity of the ingredients.

Purity, forty dollars a bottle.

I passed. What I loved was the talking. When you're sick you feel so helpless, and being listened to really helps.

That's the bit most places skip.

And nobody gets turned away over money. No exclusion, ever.

Seriously? That's rare.

The doctor said showing vulnerability is the first step, being honest about what scares you.

Braver than pretending you're fine, I guess.

She sent me home with breathing exercises. Ten minutes, no phone.

And? Have you found your zen?

Some mornings. Other mornings the cat sits on my chest.

That's cardiovascular training right there.

Come with me next time. I'll book us both.

Deal. But I'm keeping the coffee.

Okay, Yuka, three hours in that museum and my brain is completely full. In a good way.

Right? I loved the room about the old city. Did you read the plaque by the doorway, the little metal one on the wall?

The one about the families who lived in the ghetto? Yes. It said they were pushed into a few crowded streets and not allowed to leave.

That part sat heavy with me. And then in the next case they had a letter from a rabbi from that same neighbourhood.

His handwriting was gorgeous. Apparently he used to preach every week about not giving up hope, even when there was nothing to eat.

His words were almost poetic. Very simple, but they had a rhythm, like a song.

Meanwhile the paintings upstairs were the opposite. All that thunder and fire and the wrath of heaven coming down on the city.

Ha, angry skies everywhere. Though I preferred the smaller ones, the tired farmers with dirt on their hands. That kind of realism moves me more than dramatic clouds.

Same. Oh, and did you see the archaeological section? They dug up cooking pots from two thousand years ago with burnt food still inside.

Someone burnt dinner and now it is in a glass case forever. That is my nightmare.

Honestly, though, it made me think. Everything they left behind is real. Nobody was performing.

Unlike us online, you mean? My profile is basically a persona. Calm, organised, drinks green tea, never shouts at her printer.

And your avatar is a tiny cartoon cat in sunglasses, which tells me nothing about you.

It tells you everything about me. What about you? You still use that photo from six years ago.

Guilty. In two thousand years someone will dig up my phone and think I never aged.

And they will write a plaque about it. Come on, let us get coffee before you start to preach about honesty on the internet.

Too late, I already started. But coffee first. Cake too, if you promise not to post it.

Okay, Mika, two days to go. Tell me the wedding is under control.

It is, mostly. But I need you to scotch that rumour going around that the ceremony starts at noon. It's eleven, and if people show up late I will cry.

Consider it killed. I'll message the group chat tonight. What about the paperwork? Did your cousin ever talk to a solicitor?

She did. The solicitor read the whole thing twice and said everything was fine. Honestly, that was the best money we spent.

Good. And the band? Please tell me the drummer is coming back.

He is, and he promised not to drown out the speeches this time. Last year at Yuki's party you couldn't hear a single word over those drums.

I remember. I was shouting my greeting to your mother and she just smiled and nodded at nothing.

She still thinks you asked her about a fish. Anyway, I found the perfect song for the first dance. The title is so apt it's almost embarrassing.

Now I have to know.

"Finally". Nine years together, Ken. Everyone will laugh, and that's fine.

That is painfully apt. Okay, dress, ring, shoes: all sorted?

The ring is tiny but the jewel in the middle catches every bit of light. My grandmother's, actually.

That's lovely. And you'll be crying in about four seconds, so bring extra lipstick.

Already in the bag. Two shades, because the first one never survives the photos.

Smart. Now the fun part. Where's the honeymoon?

A little coastal town, ten days. We're driving down the morning after.

In that old car of yours? Does the ignition still take three tries?

Four, on cold mornings. But we had it checked, so no dramatic breakdown on our honeymoon, hopefully.

And no swimming after wine. I don't want a phone call saying somebody nearly drowned.

Yes, Dad. We'll sit on the sand like sensible people.

Good. Sleep well, Mika. I'll handle the noon rumour and see you at eleven, sharp.

Thank you, Ken. Bring tissues for yourself too.