It seemed ludicrous and cruel to force another human to waste precious time with me. What kind of society encourages prolonged torture under the guise of a mating ritual? The more I thought about it, the more absurd the scenario became. I, of all people, would be sitting at a table with somebody risking a vague and ominous outcome.

The person was waiting for me and bared their teeth in a forced rictus of welcome. Why would this other mammal be tolerating me? Eons ago we would have tumbled across the tundra clawing at each other in fear and fervour. Now we perched on bent wood seats separated by a flickering candle, law and custom.

I knew I was hideous but that didn’t prevent me from regurgitating tidbits and rehashing over rehearsed aphorisms. The face across the table stared at me with pity and disappointment. My ears grew long and hairy and my tail started to swish. In spite of the yawning chasm between us I felt enamoured of the situation, desperate to be loved or at least not detested.

My mouth flapped open closed and nonsensical noises beat against the rising tide of rejection. Too late I realized the paucity of my wit and that silence would have been a better option. I wished we were on an ancient veldt where original passion flowered in that first spring. The candle fluttered and winked out.