“Hello,” I say to the 21 year old stranger waiting in line.
“Hello,” says the stranger.
“What’s the game?” I ask.
“To make manifest the insane desires of materialism run amuck,” he says.
“You don’t want the phone?” I ask.
“No,” he says, “this is a protest.”
“Oh really?” I ask.
“Indeed,” he says.
“Can I have the phone?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, asking 1000 dollars.
“That’s preposterous,” I say.
“That’s the game,” he says.
“Wasn’t it a protest?” I ask.
“You’re a protest,” says the 21 year old idealist.