“I wonder if I’m the only one who has entire conversations in his head. They’re better than the conversations I have with people in real life,” said Sammy as he paused from tapping away on his computer.
“Gee, thanks,” replied Terri. She glared at him while knitting.
“You know what I mean.”
“Don’t you do that? Have conversations in your head I mean?”
“No. I guess I just prefer real people,” sighed Terri.
“Does that make me a freak?”
“Kinda, yeah,” said Terri.
“Gee, thanks to you, too.”
“What do you want me to say? You’re essentially dissing me to my face.”
“That wasn’t what I meant to do.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you prefer the voices in your head to me.”
Sammy shut his laptop. “That’s not it. I don’t hear voices. I just have fictional conversations with people I know.”
Terri put down her knitting. “Do you have them with me?”
“And you’re still saying the conversations you have with me in your head are better than the one we’re having now?”
“This isn’t really a good example. This conversation kinda sucks,” said Sammy with a sigh.
Terri stood up “Nice. And you wonder why you’re always alone.” She threw her knitting onto the chair and stormed off.
Sammy opened his laptop. “I guess that’s why I’m a writer.”