Book On Small Talk Novels & Stories

I nod and hustle over, jotting down the total and grabbing the plates to clear away. Elliot I’ve never been particularly good at small talk. It’s one of those skills you’re supposed to pick up when you grow up in a family like mine, but I always felt like an imposter, faking smiles and nodding along as though I cared about the latest stock prices or who just got a promotion.

A place where people talked loud and laughed and no one cared who your last name was. James let me pick the seat. He didn’t order for me. He asked what I liked and when I said I wasn’t sure he said “We can figure it out together.” Small things. But after years of being told what to wear, what to say, what to be, small things felt huge. The first ten minutes were awkward. Small talk about the weather and traffic. My hands shook a little when I picked up the water glass. He noticed but didn’t comment. He just talked about himself instead, filling the silence so I didn’t have to.

It never was and it wouldn't start today. It had been a long time since he lost his focus, expecting her to just grow tired of hiding and try to leave the library already. He had sensed her right from the time she had bolted into the library. It was surprising that he hadn't sensed it when she had been walking up the stairs. He always sensed her far before she even came anywhere close. Closing the book, his eyes passed over the title. 'How To Communicate Like A Gentle Man.' He was certain this book would be as useless as the book he had read for their dinner but something in him couldn't help but try.

He appeared in the study doorway and saw me in his chair and stopped. He didn’t say anything. I looked up from the book. “Good day?” “Better now,” he said. It was a simple thing to say. A small thing. The kind of thing people said to each other in kitchens and doorways all over the world without thinking about it. But we had never been those people. And maybe that was the thing about almost losing something. Sometimes it took the near miss to teach you how to say the ordinary things. The small true things that didn’t need to be grand to matter.

_Barely_ _Just finished a book_ The three dots appear instantly. He was waiting. _Which one_ Elma looks at the paperback on her bed. The spine is cracked wrong from how fast she read it. _The God of Small Things_. She bought it last week because the cover was blue and she was tired of grey. _The one I bought last week_ _Took me one day_ Another pause. Longer this time. Then: _That is a record for you_ _You used to read one chapter a month_

“I want to tell you what kind of book it is. Not what the back cover says you’ve read that. What I think it actually is.” I looked at the room. “It’s a book about a man,” I said. “Specifically, a particular man his hands, his voice, the strong black tea he drank every morning for thirty years, the way he cried at my school graduation and didn’t pretend he hadn’t. The way he cooked on Saturday afternoons and believed, without sentimentality, that paying full attention to the small things was the substance of a life.” I paused. “It’s also a book about what happened to him. What was constructed and deployed against him by people who found him threatening and found it convenient to remove him. W

"Just one drink? I feel like we got off on the wrong foot earlier." She hesitated, then slowly put her purse down. "Fine. One drink." I pumped my fist triumphantly, making her crack a hint of a smile. Progress! We sat in awkward silence until our drinks arrived. I racked my brain trying to find some common ground. "Sooo...read any good books lately?" I ventured. Aria raised an eyebrow. "Not really your usual billionaire playboy small talk is it?" I laughed. "Hey, I have layers! I enjoy curling up with a nice thriller."

He had a nice suit and a confident smile. "Mind if I join you?" he asked with a charming smile. I turned my head to look at him, my eyes cool and distant. "Sure, but don't expect much. I'm not in the mood for small talk." The man leaned in closer, his voice a low, seductive murmur. "Who needs small talk when we can have a more... fulfilling conversation?" I arched an eyebrow, and a smile tugged at my lips. "You think you can fulfill me?"

I blurted. “I mean, you know… Never mind” He gave up. “How can I help you, Adam?” I questioned. I was obviously not ready for one of the numerous chit-chats he’d want to engage me in. “You know, I read somewhere that it’s a nice thing to offer seats to your guests when they come around. I think you should read the book. It’s called… Ah, what’s it called again? Yes, Courtesy, Julie. That’s what they call it- courtesy” He said while admiring the scenery outside my window.

What if the easy talk and laughter were just once? But then Damian looked up and saw her. His face brightened and her worries disappeared instantly. She opened the door, and the little bell above it rang softly. Hey, he said, standing up to greet her. Hey, she responded, unable to suppress a smile. They ordered coffees and pastries and chose a quiet corner booth, away from the crowd. They chatted about books, travel, and childhood memories at first. Gradually, silence settled between them, like the calm before a storm.