The Concert Ticket

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“WHO’S LAST IN LINE? Are you last in line? What are they selling?”

“No idea, but I’m hoping for something good. Maybe some gloves, my hands are cold.”

“Imported scarves, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, are they silk? And what color? Blue would be nice. Or green.”

“You don’t want much, do you, woman? Silk scarves, indeed! It’s toothpaste, someone told me.”

“Toothpaste? Toothpaste?! You idiot, would all these people wait here for toothpaste?”

“What’s wrong with toothpaste? I could use some.”

“By the looks of your teeth, it would be the first time.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Shut up yourself!”

“Both of you shut up, it’s not toothpaste. A man up front was saying they just received a shipment of women’s boots, genuine leather.”

“Ooh, I’d love some of those! Where is that man, I’ll ask him myself.”

“He got tired of waiting and left half an hour ago.”

“Nah, a full hour at least.”

“Two hours, more like it. I could still feel my fingers back then.”