BIG MOUTH

'This is horrible,' I said about the coffee of which I'd just taken a sip.
We were in our friend's cafe for lunch having met outside the Galleries, Broadmead.
'I hate it here,' she said as we walked towards Union Street. 'It always makes me want to buy things.'
'That's the idea,' I said.
Back at the coffee, I said, 'Here, try it.'
'It's weak,' she said.
'Well,' I said, 'it just isn't good enough. The food's lovely but this won't help, we have to say something.'
'I'll take it back,' she said, 'when I get some pudding.'
'Swap it for pudding,' I said.
She got up from the table, went to the counter, came back with a chocolate brownie.
'What she say?'
'She said I could have this,' she said, 'free.'
'Mmm,' I said.
Here, have a bite.'
'No thanks.'
'Go on,' she said, 'or I'll feel guilty.'
I took a bite.
'You've got a big mouth,' she said.