Blood: Valentine

An older African-American woman started talking to the older African-American man before she'd take a seat and the milkers all sort of rolled their eyes. They had shit to do.They needed to get her plugged in and move along to the next bleeder.

But she wasn't in a hurry and they couldn't make her do what they wanted her without her agreeing to take a seat --and she wasn't ready. She wanted to talk... to him... now.

The two of them chatted for five minutes about nothing, just bantered back and forth, until finally she climbed into the recliner and let the milkers work their dark, evil magic. They scarcely stopped for the next 40 minutes.

It was charming, like watching a couple of high school sweethearts who haven't seen each other in years.

"You have a good Thanksgiving?" He asked her.

"I did. I made a big mess of food," she told him. "You should have come down and fixed a plate."

He grinned. "I meant to get down there."

"Come down for Christmas. I always put out a good table. You'd be welcome."

"Well, I might," he told her. "I might."

They went back and forth until he finished, then he hobbled off slowly to the pay window and finally the door.

"Are you two dating?" One of the milkers asked.

The woman shook her head. "No, we've just known each other so long. People ask us that and you get us in a room for longer than a few minutes and we're fighting." She sighed. "He's a good man, though. I don't let anybody take advantage of him. He's sweet, you know, and very kind, but you get a single beer in him and he'll give you all his money if you ask him. If I'm around, I don't let nobody take advantage of him. He's a good man and there aren't many."

"You sound like you like him a lot."

"Well, we love each other." She said then added without a lot of conviction, "We're like brother and sister."

It didn't sound like that was her first choice, but I suppose you take what love there is. You hope for more, but make do with what you can have.