The Man With The Mobile Phone

The Man With The Mobile Phone

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Okay. Yes. Well, I’m on the train.
The train. Yes. Just leaving one station. Now.
There’ll be another one soon. Another what?
Station. Yes. Yes. Yes. Should arrive at Central Station
in about ten. Ten what? Ten minutes. Yes. Yes, I am.
Okay. Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? Okay. Yes.
See you there then. Bye. Thanks,” said the man, alone,
on the train, speaking into his mobile phone.
“Excuse me. Could I ask? You see, I only heard
your part of the conversation,” said another man,
on the train, standing in the aisle.
“You see, I couldn’t help but wonder,
listening to your part of the conversation,
who you were speaking to.”
” I can’t believe this is happening.
Are you really speaking to me?
Asking this impertinent question?
Surely you have heard someone speaking on the phone before?”
said the man with the mobile phone.
“Yes, of course, I am speaking to you,”
said the man standing in the aisle.
“I mean, who was it? A relative, friend, work colleague?”
“Well, I am not going to tell you who she was,”
said the man with the mobile phone.
“Ah, so you were speaking to a woman,”
said the man standing in the aisle.
“Getting closer now. I know, your wife.
You look married. Let me see.
She wanted to know when you’ll be back
and what to put in the oven.”
“My stop,” said the man with the mobile phone,
and lept off the train like a qualified gymnast.

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