The Four Scenarios I Imagine When I Run into a Friend Who is Out with Another Friend

It doesn’t have to be this awkward (or deadly)

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The Ghost

I stop by a coffee shop and notice my friend at a table with another friend. Obviously, I knew she had other friends but I’m still startled, like I just saw my kid’s teacher at the dog track or absolutely anywhere that’s not school.

I panic, and decide to back out of the coffee shop slowly, disguising myself by throwing a white sweatshirt over my head. Hopefully, I’ll blend into the drab wallpaper and she won’t notice me, saving myself from questions later about why I didn’t just say “hello” like a normal person.

Unfortunately, when I get to the exit, the sweatshirt hood snags on the door handle and I fall, cracking my head on the coffee shop floor. I die instantly.

The Quickie

When I see a friend chatting with another friend at Chili’s, I decide to say a quick “hello,” and then leave. After all, I wasn’t a part of the original invite so I’d feel too uncomfortable staying but it would be weird if I pretended I didn’t see her or that I was a ghost.

Unfortunately, when I approach, I interrupt my friend’s friend as she is opening up about the recent loss of her father. My friend looks at me harshly, and says to her friend, “She’s the one I was telling you about.” Her friend responds, “Oh, got it,” rolling her eyes. I try to mumble my condolences but instead say something about Timothee Chalamet.

Hoping to demonstrate my sensitivity I attempt to place my hand on that other friend’s shoulder. What I actually do is awkwardly pitch forward and impale myself on the knife which is sticking straight up in an untouched hamburger. At the hospital, I succumb to my injuries.

The Joiner

In a great mood, I spot my friend out with another friend at a swanky Tapas bar. I’m feeling confident and think, “Hey, that’s my friend. I bet she’d love it if I joined her at her table even though I wasn’t invited.”

I grab a chair and walk over, plopping into the seat with a big smile. I immediately regret my choice when I realize she has no idea who I am.

“What are the specials?” she asks, assuming I’m the waiter. Though I intend to retreat gracefully, I somehow rise to my feet and flip the table over and onto myself. The table’s corner comes down hard and fatally crushes my windpipe.

The Wave

After unexpectedly locking eyes with my friend, who’s out shopping with another friend at Target, I smartly decide not to join them. I also don’t run out of the store, scared of dealing with a normal social interaction. Poised and thinking clearly, I offer a polite wave from afar and plan to leave with the one thing I needed and the five things I impulsively grabbed because it’s Target.

What I don’t know, however, is that a serial killer, who recently broke out of jail, is also shopping. He assumes I’m waving at him, and with that invitation, follows me. When I look back at him, confused, he knows he made a mistake and decides to save face by trying to shove me into his car.

At that very moment, my friend emerges from the store. She tells her friend to call 9–1–1, explaining, ”Oh no, Susan’s in trouble.” My name is Kate and I’ve known her for twenty-five years.

Hurt and humiliated, I let the murderer take me into the woods and bury me in a shallow grave. I die from lack of oxygen and also embarrassment.