Start a sentence you don't finish. Push off from this if it helps: a wasp in a car.

That wasn't sixty, it was a dull forty down on Third. And it's not a wasp. I saw one last week, some tiny black thing, not that yellow hornet you're making up again. You're always dramatizing. Did you even check the windows? You just drove faster, didn't you? Typical.

Composure? You once drove three blocks with a dead mouse on the dashboard. Don't pretend this is about fear. It's about you needing a story where you're the hero. Was it even a wasp, or just dust on the glass you invented because the drive was too quiet?

I didn't fall asleep. I was thinking about that bill from the mechanic. And you're dodging the point. You didn't kill it. You just drove until it moved on, or maybe it just died and you pretended it flew away. You always need the hero ending.

Then ask. Don't do the stuttering thing. You've been rehearsing this sentence for ten minutes. Is it about the money again? Or the house? I'm not going to say yes just because you're nervous. Spit it out.

Sunday? You're making it sound like a rescue mission. I'm not free. I've got that interview at the firm, the one you said was boring. Besides, if you can't be there, don't order the couch. You'll just forget to pay for it again and I'll get the call from the company.

You never mocked it. You just rolled your eyes when they mentioned the dress code. And don't you dare cancel it. I said I'm busy, not that I won't do it. The interview's at nine, the couch comes at two. I'll be there. Just stop stalling and tell them to bring the damn thing.

I won't spill anything. You're the one who drips coffee on everything. Just make sure the guy doesn't leave it in the hallway. Last time you forgot and it got wet in the rain. Don't be the reason I lose my deposit on a Tuesday.

Keep the pretense. Just don't expect me to clean up if the delivery guy sneaks a smoke inside. And for god's sake, stop looking at the ceiling like it's going to confess its crimes. It was a leak, not a conspiracy.

I didn't fight a wasp. I drove away from a dust speck while you hyperventilated. Go to bed yourself. And if that interview goes south, don't come crying to me for a ride. I'm not covering for you again.

Dream about them? I dream about the silence before they hang up. You're the one who owes the mechanic, not me. Just get the sofa delivered and don't make me chase the delivery guy down the street. Night.

Don't you dare blame a wasp for a missing leg. That's a new low. Just check the box before the guy leaves. And stop pretending you're some tragic figure fighting insects; you're just bad at reading assembly instructions. Go to sleep.

A raisin? Please. It had wings. And you didn't set a bookshelf on fire, you left a candle on a paperback. Same difference. Just don't burn the sofa down while you're assembling it. I'm not bailing you out of the fire marshal this time.

Don't start with the "your idea" nonsense. You were the one holding the lighter. Just don't get me killed by a wasp before I even start. And no yelling. I'll just stand there and nod like a statue while they grill me. You stick to the sofa, I'll stick to my suit.

Your family dinners are where I learned to stand perfectly still while being insulted. Just don't let the cousin in. If you hear buzzing, assume it's a loose wire and ignore it. We have enough things to worry about without adding insect jurisprudence to the list.

Statue's going to sleep now. You're the one who talks to insects. Don't wait up. If the buzzing turns out to be a real wasp, just throw the cushion at it. I'd rather you lose a sofa than get stung on your own bad decision.

I'll be there. You're the one who oversleeps for work, not me. And don't call me statue again, it's creeping me out. Just keep the door locked and the wasp away. Night.