MILO DOESN’T KNOW what’s more annoying: The racing staccato voice of the non-stop-talking-woman at the restaurant, or his obsession with framing an ultimate put down he will never share with her. He remembers a vocal exercise where you speak the alphabet as many times as you can in one breath. The scary part is, she talks just like that. Hasty operatic breaths between. He starts counting her respirations. Irritating!

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