"Up and at 'em you lazy buggers!" Hit those keyboards and write us a story. What, no time for it!?!

Question

"You didn't say there would be essays on the test."

Answer 1

How does it feel to speak in the wilderness? Or to a bunch of mutes?

Oh dear. A story.

I love listening to people's conversations in public places. Not that I am inquisitive, but I just think they are funnier than anybody. I am amazed by the use of language. Each word, each sentence can be the beginning of a new story. Each moment in time is the representation of a wider reality, of which we are all part. That is why I love trains: they convey a group of people for a short period of time, and their restricted space creates intimacy and makes it easier for complete strangers to start talking. Paradoxically, that intimacy is often shared by a whole group of people.
I remember once taking the train from Paris to the South of France. There was a forty-something-year-old man sitting next to a blond creature who must have been 17 or 18: long hair, fine features, soft voice. He was obviously impressed and they started talking, he asking many questions, wanting to know more about that beautiful creature who was a German student travelling through France. They got on well. As for the rest of us, well, we listened to that conversation, hoping for further developments: were they going to exchange addresses? would they get off at the same station? would he buy them drinks? He did - buy them drinks. They went to the buffet car, and came back to their seats with drinks and something to eat. He had paid for everything. The rest of us silently gave our approval. All was going well. Eating, drinking, and more conversation. The story was good, and was taking the right direction. We read our magazines, did our crosswords, ate our lunch. Eating, drinking, more talking. The thing is, you can talk to somebody for a long time without knowing all the details about your interlocutor. Talk about general subjects, or even more personal ones. You think you know all about that person, but in fact you don't. But there comes a time, in French at least, when grammar makes it impossible for you to further ignore certain elements about the person you are talking to. And suddenly: "But I'm not a girl!" (the blond creature said), "I'm a boy!".
The story was even better than what we had expected.