9 p.m. Starbucks. Studio City. Pick-up Counter.
I’m wearing a military-inspired grey jacket purchased at H&M. I have my hair back in a fetching bun, my glasses perched daintily upon my adorable freckled nose.
Dude: I like your jacket.
Dude: It looks great on you.
Me: [Oh boy, here we go.] Thanks.
Dude: It reminds me of the Confederacy.
Me: [Yep. Here we go.] Ha.
Dude: I’m reading the book Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Blah blah blah confederacy. Blah blah blah. It’s good.
Me: Sounds interesting. [Where’smycoffeewhere’smycoffee???]
Dude: What’s interesting is that he theorizes that the vampires used the slave trade.
Me: [This is going nowhere good fast.] Ah.
Dude: But it’s really funny.
Me: [Sounds HIlarious.] Mm.
Dude: But dark. It’s dark.
Me: Sounds dark.
Dude: No wonder Tim Burton was all over it.