Her things fell right in front of me, but I didn't move a muscle; I just kept smoking my cigarette. When she finished gathering her belongings, she looked at me with disgust and said, "Maybe you should help others."
I tossed my cigarette, grabbed her arm, and said: "If I help you, our eyes will meet, you will smile, and I will smile back. Then we will meet again, followed by a dinner date. You will tell your friends that I'm into you, and I will start avoiding going out with my friends. Our relationship will evolve, and then you'll restrict my internet access—that will be the turning point. I will love you to the point where you'll become conceited; you'll try to make your ex jealous, he will come back to you, and I will find out. I will stay up all night, aching for you, consumed by depression, and I'll end up a writer who loves tragic endings and never changes his style. All of this just because I helped you."
Then, I put my hands in my pockets and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd rather be rude than ever fall into that trap." 🙂
