“Hi Mrs. Smith!”
“Oh, hello, Jen. How many times have I told you to just call me Barb?”
“I couldn’t do that, Mrs. Smith, you’re around my mom’s age, and that just doesn’t seem right.”
“Well, the invitation is there, Jen. You’re in your 30s, it’s OK to call me Barb if you want.”
“I’ll think about it Mrs. Smith. By the way, you know about fountain pens, don’t you?”
“I do, I grew up with them. Why do you ask?”
“A friend of mine uses them, and I’m kind of curious.”
Mrs. Smith sighs and gestures to the chair next to her, inviting Jen to sit. “So you’re interested in pens, are you? Be warned, that’s dangerous territory, dear, dangerous indeed.” Jen’s eyes pop wide, and Mrs. Smith waves away her obvious fear. “Oh, perhaps not necessarily dangerous to your life, but to your wallet, to your interests!
