Rain Man

So, I’m standing outside my flat, in the rain, waiting for a cab in the busy rush hour traffic, when my neighbour walks by. We do the stop-and-chat thing. You know, how it goes.
“How are you?”
“Fine. How are you?”
“Fine.”

I extended things by asking where she was going.
“I’m just off to M&S to get some wine.”
“Ah,” I said, looked at my watch. Seeing that it was 10 minutes to closing time, I shouted over the noise of the traffic, “Well, you better quicken the pace!”

I mean, we don’t see each very other often. And, in doing the friendly neighbour thing, I didn’t want her to miss the shops. Besides, I think we had the stop-and-chat thing fairly covered. I was fine, she was fine, both our businesses were well. And anyway, I think you need the whole 10 minutes to get wine. You’ve got to get to the shop, you’ve got to decide the wine, you’ve got to queue. And nowadays you’ve got to factor for the charity collectors on the way, perhaps even alter your route.

My neighbour, on the other hand, thought this plenty of time, and perhaps mistook my volume for aggression, when in actual fact, I was just shouting over the traffic. “Ok,” she said, quietly, and then tip-toed away. Just as she did, a truck roared past.
“See you later!” I shouted. By the time my words reached her ears the noise had passed and all that remained was a screaming man in the rain.