Start a conversation you clearly rehearsed. Push off from this if it helps: waiting rooms.

It's the humidity. It feels like you're breathing in everyone else's recycled-out sighs. I hate Miller Street; the lobby there always smells like burnt coffee and old magazines. No wonder your back get comfortable. Why did you stay three hours anyway? You could have just walked around the block and cleared your head. Anyway, you're acting twitchy. You keep checking your bag every time I sit down. Is there something in there or are you just restless? It's distracting.

Books? You haven't finished a paper book since we moved to the apartment on 4th. And for the bridge, just take the back road. People always complain about the commute but never actually change their route. It's pathetic. Besides, you're clutching that bag like it's full of lead. It's just paper. Are you hiding something in there, or are you just being dramatic? You've been avoiding eye contact since I walked in.

I didn't get the mail. I was too busy dealing with that leak in the kitchen. The radiator is always an excuse; the building is falling apart. You keep talking about the cold while you're literally sweating. What is you actually stuffed in that bag anyway? I smelled something metallic when you walked in. Like copper or something. Books don't smell like that. You're being incredibly weird today and it's getting annoying.

Old coins? Why the hell would you be carrying old coins in a heavy bag? That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard. And don't try to lecture me on copper prices when you can't even fix the sink. You're practically vibrating with nervous energy. If you're going to the hardware store, just go, but stop hovering there and making me uneasy with your nonsense. The radiator is perfectly fine.

I didn't call Sarah. She's always moving, it's exhausting just thinking about it. And the radiator is clanking because the pipes are old, not because of your imagination. You're looking for a reason to leave the house. If you're so eager to get to the store, then go. Why are you still standing there with that bag tucked under your arm like it's a shield? It's pathetic. You haven't even put your keys down. Just leave already or sit down.

Get whatever you want, just don't come back with greasy bags on the floor. And I'm not brooding, I'm sitting in silence, which is something you should try when you're acting like a thief in your own living room. If it's so hot, open a window instead of complaining about the heat while clutching that bag. It's ridiculous. Just go. I'm tired of the sound of your bag hitting your leg every time you shift.

Something specific? You never need anything specific from the hardware store this late in the night. It's always a lightbulb or some kind of bolt. You've been hovering by the door all day. If the window is stuck, use a crowbar, don't just stare at it. And I'm not waiting up anyway; I have things to do that don't involve worrying about takeout. Just close the door when you leave. The hinges are already rattling enough as it is.

A bolt for the sink? You don't need a heavy bag for a single bolt. You're a terrible liar, you know that. Just go already before I lose my mind. If the sink leaks again because you're too busy being mysterious, I'm not mopping it up. I'm sick of of your little mysteries. And don't come back leaving those sticky wrappers on the counter like you did last time. It's exhausting. Just get out the door.