Agreed on Abercrombie

Story Sent in by Phil:

About 15 minutes into my date with Grace (we met during the winter at a sprawling mall about halfway between our houses), I noticed that she had a peculiar habit.

We walked past a Build-a-Bear workshop and the line was out the door, likely due to a birthday party. She commented, "Look at that. A real human tragedy."

I smiled, as I thought she was commenting on capitalism. As we walked on, though, it appeared as though something different was going on. We walked past a Limited Too store, and she said, "Stores like this are a real human tragedy."

Same when we walked by an Abercrombie: "This place is a human tragedy," and once again when we walked past a jewelry retailer, "This is all just a human tragedy."

Hoping to lighten things up, I took her to a restaurant. Once we were seated, she looked around at the wood paneling decor and said, "The decor is just a human tragedy."

The waitress served us waters. Grace took a sip. "This water tastes like a human tragedy." Our food was served. She had ordered a wrap: "This wrap is a human tragedy."

I asked, "Is everything a human tragedy?"

She looked genuinely hurt. "How could you ask that?"

I replied, "You've been saying it about everything."

"No, I haven't. Anyway, it's probably just the mall. It can make you crazy, you know?" I didn't, so I waited for her to continue. "I mean, as long as you're in here, you're breathing in the oxygen that they pump in for you. Who knows what's in it? It's a human tragedy."

I took my obligatory moment to process, then replied, "That makes sense."

"Thank God," she said, "Thank God for that."

She then took a few more bites of her wrap and said, "I'm glad we stopped to eat, though. If I died, that would've been a real human tragedy."

I couldn't take much more of her, and so after dinner, I brought the date to a close. She hugged me goodbye and said, "Don't disappear, okay? If you did, it would be a real human tragedy."

I sent her an email, out of politeness, to let her know that I thought we'd be better off as friends. She wrote back, and her subject line, I swear, was "Human Tragedies:"

"Dear Phil: I'm sorry to hear that. I suppose none of us are immune to our very own human tragedies. Be well and avoid dire pits."

I… will.