My friends leave for the bathroom, and I am left alone with her at the bar.
“I majored in math,” she says, “with a concentration mostly in triangles.”
She has a large purple triangle suspended above her on a spring from her headband, like a Teletubby.
“Hah, Pythagorean Theorem, am I right?” I offer nervously, trying to make conversation.
She looks at me with menace.
“It’s just… not like that at all.”
“I majored in squaaaaaares,” I say mockingly, cracking up.
A sterner look, and silence. My friends do not return.