Page 59 of Sort of Seeing Someone

The Burger Shack is quiet tonight; cozy even, for a fast food spot.

“I realized something tonight,Moonie.”

“That escape rooms are more fun when hopped up on an edible? Because that’s what I realized,” I say with the utmost conviction.

“I would need to do more research to confirm that,” Ollie unexpectedly says. “It’s that I don’t know as much about you as you know about me. You challenged me to tell you my life’s story at Red’s and I passed with flying colors. You know where I’m from, what I do for a living. Hell, you even know I was born in a freaking hotel bathtub.”

“Gee. That about covers everything, doesn’t it? Can’t believe I haven’t been able to successfully steal your identity yet with all that detail.”

He throws a French fry at me. I eat it.

“I take it your sass is residual punishment for me not exactly putting my best face forward the first couple times we met? I apologize, again, for that. I’m not always sure how to act around people like you.”

“People like me?”

“All I know about you is that you’re…”

Please don’t say a witch…

“…you’resomething.”

“Ha. What’s your best guess?” This should be entertaining.

“A sarcastic twenty-something who apparently still listens to The Smashing Pumpkins?”

“I wouldn’t say Ilistento The Smashing Pumpkins. I’m just culturally aware of one of the most famous songs of all time.”

“So let’s start there, then. What kind of musicdoyou like?”

“Chappell Roan is pretty great. But I mean, everyone loves her.”

“I’ve never heard of her,” Ollie says.

“They let people become American citizens without reciting the lyrics to Pink Pony Club? Hmm. What about you? Who do you jam out to?”

“Bruno Mars and Phil Collins.”

“I am legitimately taken aback by that. See, I paired you with like…Otis Redding or Louis Armstrong or...someone I haven’t heard of just so you could school me on what ‘good music’ really is.”

“Guess you’re not the only ‘odd combo’ connoisseur, Ms. Miller. Speaking of, besides that burrito-with-fries-in-it thing, what’s your favorite food?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one. I’m going to go with breakfast.”

“That’s a meal period, not a food,” he corrects me.

“Pancakes, waffles, hash browns, eggs,” I rattle off.

“Over easy?”

“Scrambled. With ketchup.”

“Noted. Sounds like you eat this quite often?”

“On the contrary. Almost never. I nanny my nephews and mornings are insane until I get them to school. After that, I’m lucky if I can call a forkful of cold butter noodles from the fridgebreakfast.”

“Yuck,” he comments. Clearly he has neverhadbutter noodles.

“Don’t hate on the one food item that best represents being a single girl in her twenties. Or maybe it best represents being dumped? Whatever. It’s our anthem. The quintessential comfort food.”

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