Sleepwalking my way through life: Work time chatter



Work time chatter

“So what did you do this weekend?” She asked me, still smiling from the last laugh that was uttered. We were exchanging stories about our weekends and I had already heard about an innocent street brawl and a young child’s adventure to obesity, my weekend seemed relatively boring in comparison.

“I spent the day at Marie’s house helping her with decorations,” I said, pausing in my work, “we we’re making these banners for her sister that took hours to make. But they were so nice looking that it was worth it.”

“Wow, that’s great,” the girl across from me said, feigning a huge yawn.

I scrunched up a piece of paper and threw it at her. “Then the party was the day after,” I continued, smiling at her annoyance of the paper ball, “and it was really good. We danced more than anyone else in the place and I met her family. It was a good laugh.”

But they had already moved on in conversation, talking of cheating father’s and step-mums and leaving my humble story of how after seventeen years of shyness I actually danced in public to something. I shuffled some letters on my desk and laughed as I remembered how I had met Marie’s grandmother and how I towered two stories over her when I stood up to greet her. They didn’t care about how the DJ was being a bastard with the playlist or how Marie’s brother was dancing with a hilarious drunken ass-wiggle.

Well, I suppose the topic of ‘who fucked who’ is actually much more interesting.
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