A You Talk a Lot

I am bill? · by Bill Berger

You Talk a Lot

I am 57 years old and sitting with Lesley across a table.

I see Lesley calmly eating as I am ranting about new tools I’ve been using. She’s engaged and somewhat interested as, well, she hates my work. The cost to me wasn’t worth the money it seems.

My voice becomes hoarse as I am talking faster, moving faster, and happier in say a decade. I say something like “need to work on my voice since I don’t talk so much.”

Lesley meets my eyes and plainly: “You talk a lot.”

I burst into uncontrollable laughter as I imagine what my one-sided conversations must sound like:

Daemon. Slowly Changing Dimensions. Purge. Spawn. Dimensional Modeling. The Ancient Key. Materialization. Data Vault. (“Indeed I do…” echoes.)

Lesley’s amazing smile appears, with cheeks fully separated from teeth, and a foot tap: “That’s not what I mean!” She laughs.

Through my own laughter, “I accept your softening,” and we keep eating.