i just want to play on my pan pipes

Jessica’s imaginary conversations inspired this.

This afternoon, after running a couple errands, I decided to celebrate the (near) end of my undergraduate career with a Haagen-Dasz double-chocolate ice cream bar. I grabbed my sunglasses and a lawn chair and parked myself on our balcony, soaking in the sun and contemplating gender, Europe, and the fate of the preying mantis we found on the railing last summer.

I was pretty content. I had delicious ice cream, sunshine, and a few empty minutes.

And then Running Girl arrived. I’m familiar with her – we hung out a couple times over the summer – but we haven’t talked in a while. This is what went down through a complex combination of eye contact, eyebrow lifts, and gestures known only to the female of the species.

RG: Oh. Hey.

Me: Hi. Just eating ice cream.

RG: I see that. I was running. I had my key card in my sports bra and everything.

Me: That is pretty impressive. I admire your ability to actually do anything in this beautiful state of pre-finals bliss.

RG: Yeah, it was cool. That’s, uh, some good-looking ice cream.

Me: Isn’t it? It’s delicious.

RG: Actually – I totally want some of that.

Me: Yeah? Because you just went running and I thought you’d be all smug.

RG: Oh god no. That’s double chocolate – are you kidding? I’m totally getting one later.

Me: Awesome. Enjoy that.

RG: I totally will.

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