“Isn’t it terrible that Lady Gaga died this weekend,” said the woman in the polyester pants.
“Lady Gaga died?” asked the man in the shorts without pockets. “I thought it was someone named ‘Winehouse.'”
“Oh, they’re the same person,” said the woman as she snapped her pocketbook closed.
“They are?” asked the man, scratching his head. “Are you sure?”
“They are.” said the woman, assuredly, as she rose to leave.
“I didn’t know that,” said the elderly woman with ice on her back.
(And then I simply had to chime in, even if no one in that rural waiting room was sure who to believe.)
Kelly Salasin, July 2011