Five minutes ago my phone rang.
“Hello? Lilly? Oh, hi. I was just going to… you what? Oh, God. Well, she’s probably mad because normal people don’t leave assorted pieces of furniture in their friend’s yards! Does Claire know it was you? Yeah? Oh dear, it—what? Where did you even find a stroller? Well, of course I think it’s funny. In fact, I think it’s hilarious. But I can’t laugh as hysterically as I’d like to because I’m at the bookstore right now and half this cafe is staring at me.” The weird guy in neon yellow shorts winked at me and I muttered, “Lilly, I’ve gotta go.”
That phone call was about six minutes ago and now the weird dude is making faces at me. It figures. I’ve got the attention of the sketchy guy but the hottie across the room won’t look twice at me. Maybe I should break into song. It might garner the wrong kind of attention. Just maybe. Probably not. Should I sing showtunes?