Oh, General Tso’s, one of your favorite places to eat. The sweet and sour chicken and a couple of sushi eggrolls sound like exactly what your body needs to finish the day. AFter a moment’s wait, a waiter comes over and you quickly say your order and wait for the food to arrive.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in ages! How ya doin’ girl?” Only five minutes have passed by since you order and you try not to grimace as you open one eye to see the gossip queen in your workplace, Tara, looming over you, and working a piece of gum in her mouth like a teen cheerleader.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with other things,” you reply. Busy dodging you. Work is no worse than usual but just about every time you see her beach blonde head bob into view you duck behind the cubicle walls to escape her notice. You still haven’t forgotten—or forgiven her—for the last time she set you up on a blind date whom she exclaimed would be, “perfect for you!” The man had ended up being a stripper she met at a bar.

“Are you waiting for food? I’ll sit with you. We really need to catch up,” she says.

For once in your life you wish that glares could really kill, but self-control wins in the end and you nod almost imperceptibly for her to sit. She immediately starts off on the novel-length drama that has happened to her in the past two months and after more than a minute you can feel your brain cells dying as her voices ceases to be coherent and her words turn to gibberish. You occasionally make eye contact and nod and say ‘uh huh,’ but your mind is so far away it feels like you’re on Pluto. I really need a drink, is your only lucid thought.

After what seems like a millennium, your food arrives and you don’t even acknowledge Tara when you start digging in, and she doesn’t seem to notice you anymore either because she is still talking! The sweet and sour chicken is absolutely delicious, as you know only General Tso’s can be and the taste easily drowns your mind from listening to the monotonous Tara. Although you had really been looking forward to a nice slow meal to yourself, you virtually inhale the food to get away from her and not fifteen minutes later you summon for the bill.

The moment it reaches you and you sign for it and abruptly stand up. “Well, this was a nice chat. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” you tell her, trying to smile for the act.

Tara smiles back and says, “Yeah, talk to you soon.”

You almost collapse onto the steering wheel of your car, but instead you jam the keys and speed out of the parking lot as fast as you can manage.

It’s only when you’re watching the drawing of the numbers later that night that you realize your wallet is missing. Your purse is there, but the wallet is gone and your heart begins to pound in panic. “Damn it!” You immediately flip through the phone book and dial up General Tso’s restaurant, waiting with drumming fingers for someone at the other to answer.

“Thank you for calling General Tso’s. How may I help you?”

“Yes, hi, I was there earlier at your restaurant and I believe I left my wallet. Do you know if it was turned in?”

“No, no, we have no wallet here, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

You narrow your eyes in suspicion, but you push that aside as you dig out your phone numbers to cancel all of your credit cards. With that done, you pour yourself a night cap of Kahlua and Cream and down it rather bitterly before heading to bed.

The next morning you flip on the morning television to hear that someone had managed to snatch up that 228 million dollar jackpot. You snort derisively as you think about the ticket you had, and when you glance up from the yoghurt you’re eating your mouth immediately falls open in shock. There is Tara, smiling widely at you on the screen holding up the ticket that worth hundreds of millions. Tara would never play the lottery. Buying tickets every week would cut into the money for her hair care products and make-up, you think.

You are almost certain that if there was another person in the apartment, they would see your face go scarlet red as you shake with fury. You’re certain that a lawsuit is brewing or plans to see a certain beach blonde bimbo dead. You can’t decide which sounds more appealing at the moment.

The End

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