Pete's Log: why is it so hard?
Entry #1228, (Books, Writing, n such)(posted when I was 23 years old.)
"Excuse me," I said, "you're pinching my stomach."
"Oh," he replied, looking down at the amount of excess fat he had managed to grab through my shirt. "Sorry." He let his hand fall, hesitated for a moment, and then raised it again, offering it to me. "Name's Arthur. I race camels."
I shook his hand and said "I'm Pete."
"Excuse me?" he asked, grabbing my hand tighter and leaning towards me.
"Pete," I repeated, a bit louder.
He released my hand and I sat down. He followed my lead. "So you race camels?" I asked.
"Yes, but they usually win." He grinned.
My response was a blank stare.
"Haha," he laughed nervously, "I don't actually compete against the camels. It was a joke."
I smiled politely.