fragment #2

"It's like I can hear her typos." Tim said, leaning back in his chair. "Like I can hear she can't tell the difference between the two 'your's---you know, 'you are' and the other one, the possessive."

"No one can when you're talking," Jo said. "They're homophones."

"You're a homophone," Tim said.

"Don't be an idiot," Jo said.

"I'm totally serious though. I know I can't actually hear the difference, but there's something in the way she talks. Like, she obviously wouldn't write grammatically."

"Does she speak grammatically?" Jo asked.

"I'm telling you," Tim leaned forward suddenly, slamming down the two front feet of his chair, "I can tell it from the way she talks---I can hear that she would confuse her 'to's."

"Like, too, to, and two?" Jo asked.

"I can tell she would confuse them," Tim said, growing emphatic, "And don't even get me started on her 'there's."

"You're crazy," Jo said, and, after a pause, added, "and you're probably trying to sabotage this whole thing with her."

"Why?" Tim said, "Why would I? I want it to work. I want to be with somebody."

"But not with Leigh."

"Yes with Leigh!"

"Not if you're imagining typos when she talks," Jo said.

"Well, why not? What does it mean, the typos?"

"It means you don't think she's smart enough for you." Jo said this looking down into her coffee, blowing on it, waiting for it to cool.

"Well why does it matter if she's smart enough?" Tim leaned back in his chair again. "Why can't she just be her?"

Jo snorted. "Good question," she said.

They sipped their coffee for a while in silence.