Official_Girl
Time Machine
“Do you like living in a big city?” he asks with a slightly disgusted look on his face. “Of course!” she chimes, looking around at the massive buildings, throngs of people littering the narrow sidewalks, and the business on the streets.
He lets out a deep breath, looks first down at his plain shoes then turns his head slightly and stares sideways at her for a bit. “Why?” he finally asks, wrinkling his nose a little.
“Why not?!” she boasts. Not skipping a beat she continues, “Public transportation in this city is one of the best in the world. Every time you round a corner you never know what you’re going to see. If you want to attend a play, you’re not limited to what the local community theater or high school is putting on. Ballets, operas, musical performances!” She throws her arms excitedly into the air as her voice grows. “And just think about how many performers and shows visit this city each year. You have so many choices. This place is exploding with stimulation!”
“You’re going to explode…” he muses in a sarcastic tone.
She reaches out and pokes him in his side playfully.
His shoulders start to heave as he shakes his head and chuckles, “How much do they pay you to rattle off that garbage anyway?”
She pokes his side again, this time a little harder. “Let’s get a cab, it’s freezing out here.”
“That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard all day!” He says. Now she’s the one shaking her head.
“But let me move about five feet back from the road. They’ll stop if they see a pretty girl hailing a cab in the cold. When they see me they lay on the gas."
“Fine.” She says as he shuffles back towards the alley.
She stands near the corner with her arm outstretched, dancing a little: Alternating the distribution of her body weight from one foot to the other, hoping the movement might help to keep her warm.
“Hey!” He yells over the noise of the city.
“What?” She yells back. When there is no reply she finally turns to look at him. His neck is craned and he’s scanning the area. “What?” She yells again, whipping her head back towards the road.
“I need a time machine.” He says, quite plainly.
She’s cold standing in the wind, and not amused. “What for?” She yells back, still searching traffic for a cabby with a light on.
“So I can go back 20 years and invest in concrete.”
“Concrete?!” She replies, perplexed.
“Yes, look around you! This city is one big slab of it, interrupted by a few million pieces of steel and glass. I’d be a rich man by now.”
She rolls her eyes then smiles as she spots a taxi slowing down.
She grabs the handle and pops the door open before motioning to him to join her.
“See, what did I tell you? My plan is a well-oiled machine.” He boasts with a hint of ego.
She gives the driver directions and the vehicle speeds off. The car navigates through heavy evening traffic, it’s passengers lunge back and forth as the driver practices his erratic skills. She clutches onto the door arm to steady herself.
“Here’s another investment opportunity, and I don’t even need a time machine for it.” He whispers and shoots her a mischievous grin.
“What?” She replies coyly.
He leans in closer to her and says, in a hushed voice, “Brake pads.”
Time Machine
“Do you like living in a big city?” he asks with a slightly disgusted look on his face. “Of course!” she chimes, looking around at the massive buildings, throngs of people littering the narrow sidewalks, and the business on the streets.
He lets out a deep breath, looks first down at his plain shoes then turns his head slightly and stares sideways at her for a bit. “Why?” he finally asks, wrinkling his nose a little.
“Why not?!” she boasts. Not skipping a beat she continues, “Public transportation in this city is one of the best in the world. Every time you round a corner you never know what you’re going to see. If you want to attend a play, you’re not limited to what the local community theater or high school is putting on. Ballets, operas, musical performances!” She throws her arms excitedly into the air as her voice grows. “And just think about how many performers and shows visit this city each year. You have so many choices. This place is exploding with stimulation!”
“You’re going to explode…” he muses in a sarcastic tone.
She reaches out and pokes him in his side playfully.
His shoulders start to heave as he shakes his head and chuckles, “How much do they pay you to rattle off that garbage anyway?”
She pokes his side again, this time a little harder. “Let’s get a cab, it’s freezing out here.”
“That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard all day!” He says. Now she’s the one shaking her head.
“But let me move about five feet back from the road. They’ll stop if they see a pretty girl hailing a cab in the cold. When they see me they lay on the gas."
“Fine.” She says as he shuffles back towards the alley.
She stands near the corner with her arm outstretched, dancing a little: Alternating the distribution of her body weight from one foot to the other, hoping the movement might help to keep her warm.
“Hey!” He yells over the noise of the city.
“What?” She yells back. When there is no reply she finally turns to look at him. His neck is craned and he’s scanning the area. “What?” She yells again, whipping her head back towards the road.
“I need a time machine.” He says, quite plainly.
She’s cold standing in the wind, and not amused. “What for?” She yells back, still searching traffic for a cabby with a light on.
“So I can go back 20 years and invest in concrete.”
“Concrete?!” She replies, perplexed.
“Yes, look around you! This city is one big slab of it, interrupted by a few million pieces of steel and glass. I’d be a rich man by now.”
She rolls her eyes then smiles as she spots a taxi slowing down.
She grabs the handle and pops the door open before motioning to him to join her.
“See, what did I tell you? My plan is a well-oiled machine.” He boasts with a hint of ego.
She gives the driver directions and the vehicle speeds off. The car navigates through heavy evening traffic, it’s passengers lunge back and forth as the driver practices his erratic skills. She clutches onto the door arm to steady herself.
“Here’s another investment opportunity, and I don’t even need a time machine for it.” He whispers and shoots her a mischievous grin.
“What?” She replies coyly.
He leans in closer to her and says, in a hushed voice, “Brake pads.”