They steal my skin.

Today the return of one half of a conversation. For those who haven’t experienced this here are the previous articles: [It’s a cheese and wine party not a cheese and cheese party] and [Today another one half of a conversation]. These are all real conversations where only one half of the conversation was available. And here’s today’s, the scene is a restaurant with a loud man and an unfortunately quiet woman:

“You didn’t have to swap if you didn’t want to. It wasn’t that kind of party, it was very easy going. We just all sat down and took a look at each other and made a decision.”

“They cant track mobile phone text messages can they? I’m always writing all kinds of stuff.”

“Yeah. I know it’s a work phone but I never thought they could see it.”

“You know a lot about this technology stuff. What do you do for a living?”

“What’s IT?”

“Ah Ha! I’ve got it. Filet stake with garlic mushrooms. YeeHA!”

“I’m cold.”

“No I can’t wear scarves they steal my skin. That reminds me of my friend. He had to have a skin transplant. They took the skin off his arse and put it on his leg.”

“He’d poured petrol on his leg and it was evaporating but it was still flammable. We were just playing with fire. We were just kids.”

“No I can’t wear your gloves they’d cut off my circulation.”

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