The place: A Midtown outpost of a Burritorama (not its real name), on the ground floor of a glass-and-steel behemoth of an office building.
The time: Lunch, silly.
The players: Two attractive young office workers, mid-20’s, one male, one female, known in this space as, respectively, Malchik and Devushka, dressed in gender-appropriate office-to-dinner-to-club fashion-forward clothing. One not-so-attractive, not-so-young desk monkey, mid-30’s, known in this space as Your Bakerina, dressed in black pinstripe trousers and black Calvin Klein t-shirt that no one knows is really part of her husband’s stash of black Calvin Klein undershirts. (Or rather, no one knew it till now. Blast!) One gentleman, late-60’s-to-early-70’s, dressed in beautiful and mysteriously unwrinkled light linen summer suit, known in this space as Robertson Davies, because, really, the resemblance is striking.
The scene: Malchik and Devushka are moving down the cashier line with their lunches, chatting animatedly about Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. YB moves down the line behind them. Everybody pays for their food, then moves over to the kiosk where one picks up plastic forks and napkins. Because Malchik and Devushka are carrying on their conversation on either side of the napkin dispensers, YB pardons herself politely and reaches in between them.
Malchik: I know, it’s outrageous. I mean, you and I both remember a time when movies cost, like, five dollars…of course, that was really,really long ago.
Devushka: Well, even back when we were in high school, it was still, like, [Malchik joins her in unison] seven dollars.
YB (to herself): Well, that tears it. I am officially older than God.
YB approaches exit, feels tap on shoulder, turns to face Robertson Davies, who, unbeknownst to her, has been watching the whole scene.
Robertson Davies: I remember a time when it was cheaper to see a show on Broadway than to go to the movies. (smiles beautifully)