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WESTON, WV Yesterday was a beautiful day in Weston—the perfect day to wander down to the local coffee shop and sit down on the patio for a chat with some friends. So that’s what Weston residents did. They stopped by The Bean Room to order their lattes and their cappuccinos and their triple mocha caramel praline iced espressos. They gathered around their shaded tables on the sunny patio, chatting with their friends and neighbors about the beautiful weather and the boring little details of their lives.
At one table, three people were discussing their upcoming vacation to Nashville. They excitedly planned and worked through the details of their visit: where they’d go, what they’d do, which route they’d take.
At the next table sat Lois Smith, who had taken her seat for the sole purpose of sipping coffee and overhearing conversations that could be retold in her gossip circles. She listened for fifteen minutes or so, subtly leaning toward their table so she could hear better.
Then she couldn’t take it any longer. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she began, though she and the other table knew full well that she could have easily ignored them and minded her own business. “And I heard you’re going to Nashville. My sister-in-law went there back in 1972. She said it was a lot of fun.”
The neighboring table had no idea how to respond, so they replied with polite comments, such as, “Oh, yes. We’re looking forward to it,” and “Oh did she? Hmmm.”
Then they smiled at her and returned to their conversation, but not until after making strange faces at one another. All agreed after Smith left her table that she was a complete wacko whose random comment added completely nothing to their discussion.
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