Tess
The menu said "toothless soup." Nonsense. Like that. You never said you were sorry. Just shrugged. We’re still sitting there, staring at the plastic leaves.
Refer to it only as "that" and refuse to name it. Push off from this if it helps: a badly translated menu.
tessQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit
ivoQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit
modegrudge
twistKept Waiting
voices Clipped
Ivo
The leaves were fake anyway. Moldy, probably. I didn’t shrug. I looked at my coffee. It was cold. You kept picking at them until they stuck to the table. We paid for that soup. That’s the point. You’re still mad about the menu.
Tess
The coffee was cold. You were right about the mold. But you didn't say sorry. You just paid. That’s not how you fix a lie.
Ivo
I didn’t lie. I just didn’t correct you. You heard what you wanted. Paying for bad soup isn’t an apology. It’s damage control. You’re treating it like a crime scene. It’s a Tuesday. Let it go.
Tess
Tuesday. Right. The coffee was cold because you didn’t look. You just drank it. Smiled. Left me holding the bag. That’s what I’m talking about.
Ivo
I smiled because I was tired. You think I planned the cold coffee? I just drank it. You held the bag? I handed you my wallet. Stop painting yourself as the victim. It’s exhausting. I’m not fixing a narrative. I’m eating lunch.
Tess
You handed me a crumpled bill. I still have it in my desk. At the office. Everyone thinks I’m hoarding trash. Like they’re waiting for me to fix it.
Ivo
Let them think that. I’m not reading your desk notes. You keep it because it’s proof. That bill is a fossil. I want you to flush it. Or eat it. I don’t care. I have a meeting at three. Stop talking about the paper.
Tess
Meeting at three. Always the meeting. I’ll keep it. Let it rot. You’re already halfway out the door. Again.
Ivo
I’m not halfway out. I’m sitting here. You’re the one talking to the air. I have a spreadsheet. I need to finish it. The bill is paper. You’re making it heavy. It’s just paper. Stop.
Tess
Paper. Sure. I’ll leave it on the table then. Just... don’t wipe it up. Let it sit there while you finish your numbers.
Ivo
Fine. Leave it. I’ll finish the numbers. You can stare at the bill. It’s just paper. I’m typing. Don’t expect me to acknowledge it. I have deadlines. You have history. We’re not the same.
Tess
History. Right. Typing so loud I can feel it in my teeth. You think silence is peace. It’s just noise you’re ignoring.
Ivo
My keyboard is loud. I can’t help it. You’re hearing ghosts. I’m not ignoring you. I’m focused. There’s a difference. Stop trying to measure the volume. It’s not about you. It’s just work. Hard, boring work. You wouldn’t understand the stakes.
Tess
Boring. Sure. Stakes. You always make it sound like the world ends if the cells don’t align. I’m just sitting here. Waiting for you to notice I’m still breathing.
Ivo
I see you breathing. It’s annoying. Loud, rhythmic breathing. Distractions. If you want attention, speak. Don’t just exist there, waiting for a sign. I’m working. The cells don’t align because you keep moving. Stop moving. Or get out.
Tess
Fine. I’ll get out. Through the back door. The one that sticks. You won’t even look up. Typical.
Ivo
The back door sticks. I know. I’ve oiled it. Twice. You’re dramatic. I’m looking at the screen. The light burns my eyes. If you leave, don’t slam it. It wakes the neighbor. He complains. I don’t have time for that. Go. Or stay. It doesn’t matter.
Tess
Oiled it. Twice. Convenient. The neighbor doesn’t care about your cells. He cares about noise. Go on then. Type.
Ivo
He complains about the deadbolt. Not the typing. Stop conflating issues. It’s a faulty latch. I’ll fix it. Eventually. You’re twisting words. I’m just trying to finish. Leave the bill. And yourself. I need quiet.
Tess
Faulty latch. Sure. I’ll leave the bill. And me. Quiet’s all you want. Just watch me disappear into the static.
Ivo
Static. Great. You’re fading. Good. More screen space. Don’t drift too far. The chair squeaks. I hate that sound. Keep going. Leave the noise with the bill. I’m almost done.
Tess
Squeak. Loud. You’re counting seconds. I’m counting the stains on the table. One less thing to clean.
Ivo
Count stains. Count seconds. Doesn’t matter. I’m deleting the row. The stain’s old. Coffee. Not you. Stop looking at the wood. It’s scratched. Always has been. I’m closing the file. One click. Then silence.
Tess
One click. The file dies. The stain stays. Just like that. You think silence fixes anything? It just echoes.
Ivo
It doesn’t echo. It settles. Dust falls. You’re imagining noise. I closed the file. I’m drinking water. Your stain is history. I’m here now. Still here. The echo is in your head. Not the room.
Tess
Dust settles. I hate dust. It gets in the joints. Like you. I’m drinking water too. Tap. Metal taste. Just like the menu.
Ivo
Tap water. Always. The menu was a joke. The metal taste is pipes. Old ones. I didn’t design the plumbing. You’re comparing soup to H2O. It’s absurd. Drink. I’m heading out. Door sticks. Don’t try it.
Tess
Sticks. Loud. I won’t try it. I’ll just watch the hinge rust. Like everything else. You’re gone. The tap’s still running.
Ivo
I didn’t leave. I’m standing by the sink. Turning it off. You’re watching rust? It’s metal. It oxidizes. Like iron. Like blood. Stop staring at the hinge. The water is warm now. I’m washing my hands. Come here. Or don’t.
Tess
Warm. Rare. You’re washing up like nothing happened. I see your hands. Clean. I’m still here. Rusting.
Ivo
Clean hands. Soap. Water. Standard. You’re rusting because you’re wet. Dry off. Stop hiding in the corner. It’s undignified. I’m drying mine. On the towel. The one you hate. Come eat. Or don’t. I’m hungry.
Tess
Towel’s gray. I hate it. It smells like wet dog. I’m not hungry. You eat. I’ll watch you choke.
Ivo
Gray towel. It’s dirty. I know. I’m using a napkin instead. Choke? You’re voiding your warranty. Eat the sandwich. Or starve. I’m not watching you. I’m watching my watch. Five minutes. Then I’m gone. Let’s see who blinks first.