A/N:Please read and review!

Small Talk

The first day, she had been bewildered. It was the first time in her three boring months of being a part-time checkout chick that somebody had responded to her standard 'How are you today, sir?' with more than a non-committal grunt or a distracted reply of 'Fine, thanks'.

In fact, the most astonishing thing was, after her customer telling her how he was, recounting why he was that way, and explaining the finer points of his life story, he had asked her in return how she was. It had taken her aback and for a few seconds she said nothing, finally managing to get out a distracted 'Fine, thanks.'

The second day, he again came up to her counter. This time, she had learned from the impatient grumbles of the customers standing behind him in the queue and today bundled his loaf of bread and carton of milk into a bag efficiently instead of staring at him with her mouth hanging slightly open.

Although he took his bag and change, he walked around the side of the counter and continued to talk to her as she served the other customers, telling her about his school days and even pulling out his cousin's x-ray for her to see. He asked her again how she was. 'Good, thanks.'

The third day, she was expecting and maybe looking forward to him. It was nice to listen to his ceaseless chatter, somewhat like talking to an eager, small child. Something about the way he spoke amused her, calmed her and filled her with energy at the same time. He turned up as usual, running a sheepish hand through his hair as he set a bag of frozen vegetables on the counter. 'Forgot to get them yesterday,' he explained, proceeding to tell her of the many other things he had forgotten at various times in his life: in primary and secondary school and now college. He also showed her his recent blood test results, showing that his haemoglobin count was well within the healthy range.

She listened mostly, bundling away other customers' purchases in bags, nodding, smiling and 'hmm'ing here and there. Today when he asked her how she was, she smiled at him. 'Great, thanks.'

The fourth day, he sang. He had told her he wanted to audition for Idol, and had asked if she could listen to his song. She had agreed and had tried not to smile as he (very enthusiastically) belted out a song, completely out of tune, his voice cracking on the high notes. Eventually security escorted him out of the building.

Even as he was being dragged away, he asked her how she was. She couldn't help laughing. 'Wonderful, thanks.'

The twenty-second day was a bad one. She had a headache, had been ditched at lunch by a close friend who evidently preferred the company of her latest boyfriend, had found her hair looking dull no matter what she did to it, and had been forced to cover the later shift of one of her colleagues. Today him and his irrepressible optimism grated on her instead of soothing her. His chatter aggravated her headache and when he finally asked her how she was, she had snapped at him. 'Brilliant, thanks.' Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. 'Don't you ever shut up? Is that too much to ask?'

Almost immediately she regretted her sharp words. The one who had been bubbling with cheerfulness and confidence a moment ago seemed to droop before her eyes, total disbelief and hurt written all over his face. For a few seconds he looked so sad that she felt like crying herself, but before she could say anything to him, his mouth suddenly hardened and he stiffly took his purchase and walked out of the store. Her shift hadn't even finished.

On the twenty-third day and all the other days after that, he started coming to the supermarket only once a week like a normal person. His memory seemed to have improved vastly, for he was now able to remember all his shopping for the week on the day that he did visit. He would go to other checkout counters, although she noticed that he did not talk to the cashiers for nearly as long.

She was miserable. While serving other customers, she constantly looked for him, although he seemed to be stoutly avoiding her eyes. Somehow, with his sunny personality and endless chatter, his appearance had become the brightest spot in her day and its sudden disappearance was sorely felt. If he had asked his usual question, she would have replied, 'Miserable, thanks.'

On the thirtieth day, she snapped. She couldn't stand it anymore – deciding she had to go and talk to him, she abandoned the surprised-looking customer she was serving, muttering a hasty apology as she started off, scanning aisles for him. She finally found him in the frozen section and when she approached him, the look he gave her was perhaps more efficient than the enormous freezers around them.

She had no apology planned, but suddenly she thought of the perfect way to – the only way to. 'I went to see my doctor, and he told me that my brain hasn't been functioning properly since a week ago.' Her voice was quiet and subdued and she found her shoes suddenly fascinating. 'I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me while I show you the scans – I haven't got them with me at the moment.'

She concentrated harder on her laces, wishing he would say something, even if they were words of disgust and refusal – anything would be better than this awful silence. Suddenly, a warm hand slipped into hers and she looked up to see him smiling. It was not like his usual wide, cheesy grin – it was smaller, less pronounced, but somehow she had never seen him look happier.

As they walked out of the supermarket hand-in-hand, her totally forgetting about her shift and the impatient customers at her checkout, him totally forgetting his abandoned trolley, he started talking to her again, more than he ever had before, and for the first time, she started talking back.

A/N: Based on a comedy sketch (yes, I wrote a romance based on a comedy sketch) from my favourite comedy show, The Chaser's War on Everything. Please review!