"I'm writing about that man who offers me gum on Thursdays."
"Which man?" She leaned against the door jam and crossed her arms.
"Oh I told you about him." Mark took his hands off the keyboard and wiped the strain from his face. "Joe's that homeless guy who walks by me on his way to the heart center."
"Why are you writing about him?" Kaitlyn pulled the scrunchy out of her hair and shook her hair straight.
"Because I want to remember him. I like him."
"Is this for your blog?"
"Yeah." Mark took his glasses off of the table and put them on his face.
"Why are you wasting your time?" She pulled the elasticized band between the fingers of her hands.
"I'm not wasting my time."
"No one cares about that man."
"I care about him." Mark sat up straight in his chair. "I care. Hey!" Mark's anger grew. He contained it behind clenched teeth and he lowered his voice. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" She snapped the band.
"Why do you belittle what I do? I don't get it."
"You write essays that only a few people will read. It's such a waste." She snapped the suffix of the word and echoed the sound with the elastic.
"I write these essays because I want to tell someone about Joe. He matters to me. That's why I write about him. I told you about him, but you didn't listen to me. So if only two people read my little essays that's more than I have listening to me here."
"I'm tired of listening to you."
"You can't be baby. You haven't done it for months."
Kaitlyn turned and walked away; Mark turned back to his laptop and began to type.