Too Busy

She called Frank. “Hey, Frank, you got a minute."

"Sorry, I’m too busy,” he said.

”Oh, that’s too bad."

"You know what, maybe I can find some time. What do you need?"

"Can we meet?” she said.

They met at a small cafe in Little Italy. It was a courtyard shaded by olive trees, with artsy little tables and chairs and a charming waiter. Frank looked really happy, she thought.

”Frank, I need help moving some furniture to the East Coast and you have a long-standing contract with that moving company, right? I need at least six trucks. Maybe up to eight."

"Hey, consider it done,” he said, “Oh, and happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks,” she said, “So I hear you’re leaving town?"

"Yeah, that’s almost settled. Not quite yet, though."

"Oh, it’s been going on a while,” she said.

”Yeah, it’s a woman thing. It’s hard for me leave when I don’t know if she and I can be a thing or not. When I leave, I’m gone."

"Gotcha,” she said, “So are you leaning any way?"

"It hasn’t been settled yet,” he said. “How about you? You were leaving too, right?"

"Actually, I think I’m getting engaged,” she said. “We talked about this, but he hasn’t proposed yet.”

Frank checked his phone, “Hey, listen. I’ll talk to those moving guys. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll give you a call.” He got up to leave.

”Hey,” she said, “If it doesn’t work out, I have another friend. It was nice seeing you."

"Nice seeing you too,” he said with his back to her. He was getting smaller and smaller, until he got almost small enough to leave the courtyard through the tiny door. He had to duck a little, and then a lot of light shone through.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk