16. 4:30 p.m. - 5:00 p.m.

"So, G----, what do you do?"

She was talking to my roommate. The three of us were sitting on the couch. My fourth date with Laur.

He started in on his rant about retail. Everyone who's worked retail has a rant. He was no different. None of them are. Long, hateful kacks about the stupidity of customers.

I ask if they want popcorn and throw some in the microwave. It takes four minutes in our ancient nuker. I press:

Time
5
0
0
Start

and rejoin them on the couch.

"We have this one customer, we call him Mr Stinkytooth and he..."

I tune him out. I've heard it before. I've participated before. Never, however, when he had a girl on the couch. A new girl. A girl like Laur.

I try to catch his eye when she's looking at him. I try to brow him out of the living room. He's oblivious.

I count the minutes. They seem inflated. Eighty seconds per.

A smell comes from the kitchen.

"How long did you put it in for?"

I rush to the microwave. Open the door. The stench pours out.

"Shit. Sorry, G---. I know you hate that smell."

He looks at her.

"It's true. I do. When I was a kid--"

"It was an accident," I say.

Laur's quicker than him. She gets up. Comes to me.

"I hate the smell, too," she says.

We head in the back and leave him to it.

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