farts + trader joes

FADE IN: a car, 2 friends peeling mandarins:

“I mean, now what? We just go back to farts and Trader Joes?”
She looks at me expecting an answer.
Farts and Trader Joes…yeah, that seems about right. You spend enough time with someone, sure, that’s what happens.
I nod.
She scoffs and looks away.
“It’s not fair,” she says quietly.
She’s so pretty when she’s mad/frustrated/sad/resentful/vulnerable.
When she’s human.
“Well, it can be,” I finally say. “If you changed your family, culture, social mindset, your marriage. Become someone else, reinvent yourself!, and then educate everyone around you on the new You.”
She looks at me, “Stop it.”
“I mean it.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she says, slipping back into her lawyer voice.
“Then forget her.”
She swallows thick. It’s audible.
“I can’t…”
A beat. 
“How do you feel about farts and Trader Joe’s with her?”
“That’s different.”
“Nope, no it’s not. Same shit different smell.”
A slow smile curls across her lips, “She’s different, her farts smell like roses.”
I burst into laughter — bahahahaahaha.