A Proposition

“So what’ll it be today?” I ask, looking into the distance like I could care less.
“Honestly, I think I will die of a coronary if I try to stomach any more of what you call food here. Hope that doesn’t offend you.” He says with a smirk. Like he knows it’s impossible to offend me.
“I don’t exactly live for the food here myself.” I respond with a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. I know what’s coming. I’ve done it so many times before. But this time it’s going to hurt.
“So, when do you get out of here? Maybe I could take you on a vacation from the fried and greasy.”
“Look, I already implied to you that there are some major obstacles to us being friends. So don’t make it harder. Why would you want to make something harder when you could just take a hint and get out?”
“Some things are worth a little extra effort.”
“Cut the crap.” I retort.
“Feisty.” He says, smiling wickedly. I hurry to the kitchen to hide the smile creeping onto my face.

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