A Conversational Attack

(It’s the middle of dead week, so I decide to multitask by polishing my term paper while eating dinner in the on-campus cafeteria. Someone I don’t know sits in the other seat of the two-person booth I’m in, but I figure the cafeteria’s packed and there’s nowhere else to sit.)

Stranger: “Hey.”

Me: *not paying attention* “Hi.”

Stranger: “How’re you doing?”

Me: “Eh.”

Stranger: “What’re you working on?”

Me: “Term paper.”

Stranger: “Cool. What class?”

Me: “I don’t want to be rude, but this paper is due tomorrow, and it’s worth half my grade, so I’d rather focus on this.”

Stranger: “God, I just wanted to talk.”

Me: “It’s dead week, it’s six pm, and I’m in pajama pants. My hair is clearly overdue for a wash, I’m eating and typing with considerably more focus on the latter, and I’m sitting at a table that can hold meals for two, or a meal and laptop for one. What made you look that that and think, ‘That’s a girl crying out for small talk with a stranger’?”

Stranger: “You don’t need to be such a b****.”

Me: “Apparently, I do.”