She asked, “Is it time to write the novel?”
He said, “I’m an extrovert.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“I had a professor who said he would
put glue on my chair to get me to
sit still and study.”
“And….”
“And so,  I couldn’t sit still long enough to
write a novel.”
“And….”
“And…I can write poetry
and then go out
for a cup of coffee.
It’s not a perfect rhyme —
poetry/coffee —
but close enough.”
“Ah….”
“Another cup of coffee?”
“Sure.”