Betsy Stogerpan swept her hand across the table top and stopped. "Don't look at me like that, Arthur T Warrenbrood."
Arthur Warrenbrood shrugged and dropped his sunglasses down off his forehead onto the bridge of his nose.
"You're drunk, Betsy. Take a chill."
"I'll tell you when I'm drunk. I'm sober. I'm so sober my molecules are starting to atrophy."
There was a silence. An airplane flew overhead with a banner. It didn't say anything. It was just white.
"Must be disappearing ink," Arthur said, pointing up to the sky.
"You're sober, Warrenbrood. Take a drink."