Galinda and Calvin Part II (An Internet User Story)
Galinda turned her face away from the road toward Calvin.
“You don't listen, Cal. Do you know how to listen? I never said she wanted to move. I said she moved. Jesus.”
Calvin did not respond, but observed the pale yellow open fields passing beside the highway. He adjusted his shirt.
“Why did you wear that? I swear. It's what...the third day in a row you wear the same thing?”
Galinda ran her eyes over his long sleeves.
“And when are you getting a job?”
She shook her head in disgust.
“You don't cook. You have no friends.”
She waited for a response that did not come.
“You're allowed to criticize and you can't take criticism, Cal.”
He hated it when she called him “Cal.”
There ticked twenty minutes before another word emerged.
“You contradict yourself every five minutes and then tell everyone about their inconsistency. Do you even know that?”
Galinda silenced herself. She wanted to express her frustration, not destroy him.
“It's not the same shirt,” he said finally. “It's very similar to another one.”
He was unable to look at her, bounding anger slowly making his thoughts inexpressible. The Audi continued rolling along the wide-roaming highway before them. A great many miles promised to extend their journey dead-long, granite-hard.