she tells me
as we sit and drink coffee
on our first date.
i'm a stickler
for detail, she says, while picking
a tiny piece
of lint off her
sweater,
then flicking a scone crumb
off my sweatshirt.
i like to be organized
and have
everything in place.
i don't like chaos or clutter
around me.
why is that baby crying,
do you hear that?
oh look,
someone brought a dog in here,
can you believe
that?
i nod, sipping on my
drink.
babies, i say, pfft.
and dogs, what the hell,
all that hair
and drooling. they get old,
the vet bills,
then they die.
exactly, she says.
i'm actually a hairless cat person.
she holds up her phone
to show me a picture
of her ghoulish
grey cat.
her name is Demon.
i take a long
look around the room
as i eat my
maple scone
and more crumbs
tumble upon me.
i figure the door is about
a hundred
feet away,
and it would take me
less than ten seconds
to get out of here
if i zig zag through the crowd.
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