“Salt?” She asked.
“I swore off salt a while ago. Bad for your health, it gets everywhere, it just doesn’t make sense to eat it, and I don’t know why other people do it.” He replied.
“But this salt is your salt. You’re going to be responsible for it in my plate.” She replied as she pointed a finger at her plate.
“No it’s not, we’ve been over this.” He retorted. He pointed to three guys are nearby tables. “They’ve had their salt around you, and I think it’s one of theirs.”
“How do you know it’s not your salt?” She asked.
“Do you see any on my side of the table? I don’t want any, so it’s not there. You know I don’t like salt, why the interrogation? What do I have to do, prove the salt isn’t mine?”
“Yes, you do. And no, you can’t check my plate. My plate, my rights.”
“Well, if you’re accusing me of putting the salt there, I have a stake in it. Give me the plate.”
“I don’t think so.”
He left the restaurant, wondering if he would pay for that salt for quite some time. Arguing was futile, and most people sided with her anyway.
“Opposite” edition – A prompt asking me to reverse the mood of the original work.
“Salt?” She asked.
“Hell yes! I love salt! It adds a tinge of zest to everyday life. Makes life worth living!” He replied in a fit of ecstasy.
“I’m so glad I have your salt!” She said as she pointed to the plate, as if to ensure that he remembered which plate was hers.
“Why stop there?!” He replied. “Let’s get these guys and girls over here and share some salt together, it’s the greatest stuff on earth!”
“That’s a great idea! Let’s share together! Here honey, let’s just put our plates together and eat the same stuff!” She exclaimed as she vigorously shoved her salad into his from across the table.
And so, many grains of salt were spread and spilled that day. The couple lived happily ever after, and had a mountain of kids who also spread their salt around.