And Then There Were None WC 297

And Then There Were None
WC: 297

Joni wasn’t a sociable person; she stayed close to home when she wasn’t at work. She loved getting lost in a good book as she sipped her Chardonnay. The young woman truly enjoyed her own company, even though she was told that was odd. This year’s resolution was to socialize—to form relationships with other people.

So, there Joni was, mingling in a large group of strangers.

She was getting ready to leave the mixer when she saw a familiar face.

Bob? Ben? Boris? Barry?

She was almost certain his name started with a ‘B’.

Bart? Brandon? Bill? Bill!

Yes, it was Bill.

Joni held out her hand. “Hi, Bill, I’m Joni! I don’t know if you remember meeting me about two years ago at the Bass Shoe Expo.”

“Hi! How’s it hangin’!”

How’s it hangin’?

He held out his fist for a fist bump.

Joni tucked in her fingers and thumb and fist-bumped.

“Truth be known, the name is Tom, but my uncle’s name is Bill. Well, William. Called him Will, too, before he died…”

This guy could talk.

“...Not after, of course. Well, not to his face. Ha, ha. My dad’s name was Tom. Well, Thomas. And--”

“I could have sworn it was Bill. Sorry.”

“I don’t remember you,” Tom said. “Some people just aren’t memorable, I guess. We can’t all be charismatic. Ha, ha. That was a joke.”

Mortified, she looked down. Tom’s feet caught her eye: grungy sandals, dirty toenails, and hairy big toes.

“Well, Bill, it was nice meeting you.”

She held out her fist.

“It’s Tom.”

“Well, it’s been a slice of paradise, Bill.”

“It’s Tom.”

“Sorry, Tom. Some people just aren’t memorable, I guess.”

They fist-bumped and Joni fled for home and Agatha Christie’s, And Then There Were None.