Anthony wants to tell you a story.

"Nobody wants to hear my fucking stories anymore."

"Not in the mood for rambles."

"I want to talk. I want to tell pleasant stories."

"It sounds lonely."

"It's not lonely."

"It is."

"It's not. I'm not lonely. I'm doing you a service."

"You think?"

"I know."

"Ok."

"I am interesting. I am relaxed. It will serve the hell out of you to try and participate in a conversation with me."

"OK."

"Conversation is dying; rather a efficacious exchange between people, you know? A rich exchange that is cynical free. One that isn't recycled and held together with hope of approval."

"I don't understand."

"You understand. I'm sure you do.

"What a souring tasting meal."

"A defenseless, rich, vulnerable and challenging conversation. It's like I can smell it. Can you smell it?"

"It smells sour."

"No."

"What would you talk about?"

"About anything that really matters to you. You know? really matters. Any fucking thing."

"Wow. Such a sour meal."

"Are you listening?"