From G8:
"Danny, right?" She placed both hands on the table and deftly slipped into the seat across from him. "Miriam," she offered, placing on mottled hand to her chest. Danny stared, straw in mouth: the diamond on her finger was insane. "Nice to see you again."
"You too?" A sprig of cold lettuce hung from his lip. He didn't want to be rude. Miriam reminded him of his Jewish grandmother: a Jewish grandmother he actually - not being Jewish - never had. She smiled.
"Listen, Danny," the diamond sparkled across the table and the fingers that supported it stopped his hand from forking another pile of sodden lettuce. "I know you probably want to read your..." her eyes trailed the bright pink cover and bikinis of US Weekly, "magazine, but, well," she sighed and looked over at the movie theater across the way. "You just look so heartsick." She tapped his hands again.
Danny sat back in his plastic seat.
"If I could, I'd like to tell you a thing or two."
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