"I'll have a hard ice cream cone," the little old lady told me. She was so short I had to stand on my toes to see her from over the cash register. I waited for her to continue, but she had no problem standing there, staring at me with perseverance. I kept waiting; usually customers are the most eager to voice off what flavour they're going to have.
But not this time.
According to her silence, I was forced to conclude that her deepest desire was to have a large waffle cone with Crouching Tiger and Heavenly Hash. My telepathy let me know.
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