It felt like we couldn't get enough oxygen even in the outdoor corridor stuffed with cafè tables.
"Almost time to interview your neighbor," a man with bushy eyebrows said in English and this cut through the din of Babylonian-style lunch talk.
"Okay." A person turned on the little tape recorder's microphone. "On my countdown, say (i)fungible(i)."
"Why that word?" The French woman asked.
"It'll sound good in his deep voice." The Jewish woman replied.
"Leave my (i)husband(i) alone. Don't nitpick on him when he's stressed about making a talk."
"I'm not ahstressed."
"Here," money for espresso. An eyeroll. "Please?"
She went to the small line of people waiting.
"I just think it might be better to team up."
"So you don't think we know what we're doing."
"Did not say that."
"I'm sure our ineptitude is pretty obvious."
"Don't. (i)Don't cry(i)." The man handed one of the women a linen napkin.
"It's obvious how?"
"Look at us. (i)Pathetic(i). It just took five women to pool coins from around the world to buy one espresso." Crying.
Reaching to safeguard the one espresso and two bean sprouts gleaned from the counter, two women's hands knocked into each other and an unexcited voice reported, "Half an espresso."
"I'll only put my tongue in it."
"Ew."
"I meant as (i)my share(i)."
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