Like at the gym. My favorite this week was: I don’t want to be that kind of person.
Okay, so I did linger/loiter (which word is better? The conundrum of a writer.)
Let’s just say I lintered. I lintered for a while. But there were no closed doors and it was a public place and I actually did do a few leg presses while I was eavesdropping, even though I rarely use that particular machine and I probably caused some ligament damage in the process. But anything for a good story idea, right?
Turns out the person who made the statement (she of the pert blonde pony tail, horsy laugh and athletic thighs) didn’t want to complain about some injustice or another because she didn’t want to be that kind of person.
The individual she was speaking to (Audrey Hepburn hair; lime green runners) was wholly sympathetic. I am calling these two girmen. A little old to be girls, but a little young to be women. They’d be perfect characters to write into a New Adult fiction novel (which I’m told is the new, hot thing only it’s not all that new – Ann Brashares wrote a great NA fiction novel in 2007 – The Last Summer. But I digress).
This overheard tidbit had potential. In spite of my leg presses and hopefulness, however, it went nowhere. In fact, their conversation was kind of boring. So I went off (to a much easier machine) and had a (much better) conversation with myself about what might cause someone to say that.
I don’t think I spoke out loud but I might have. I’ve been known to. I did get a few stares. But then people often stare when I’m at the gym, mostly because I forget to comb my hair before I go.
I don’t want to be that kind of person. As story prompts go, it’s a good one, so I’m still tossing it around. And I’m still lintering. Only this time I’m targeting boens. The ‘not-quite-boys-not-yet-men’ group. They gather by the bench press machine.
Let’s hope I don’t hurt myself.