They stood waiting to cross the intersection as a line of cars lumbered downtown. Bobby fingered the phone in his pocket and glanced over at Gabriella. Gabriella was in the middle of a story about their friends Jessica and Raul. They’d been in couples therapy for almost six months. Raul had become a better listener, which had made Jessica happier, but Raul was happier too.

“With enough effort,” Gabriella said, “relationships can improve.”

Bobby turned his head to watch a cyclist shoot past, pedals whirling.

“It’s amazing,” Bobby said. “Bike riders go so fast on crowded city streets, much faster than cars.” He stroked the hairs of his tiny goatee. “Why don’t more people get around on bikes? Europeans are just smarter than Americans in that way. Just think of Copenhagen. Or think Berlin.”

“You’re not even listening,” Gabriella said.

“Sorry, I was thinking most of the stories people tell could be much shorter. But there’s a simple technological solution to the problem.” He took out the phone, tapped the screen. Music began to play.

Earrings dangled on either side of Gabriella’s face like windchimes. “That sounds like the music they play at the Academy Awards when it’s time for people to leave the stage,” she said. “What—you’re sick of my story? You haven’t even heard it.”

He told her to picture Hallie Berry and Hugh Jackman walking in front of Brendon Fraser holding an Oscar. The camera zooms in from the wings. It was fine to imagine different actors, he said, if she preferred others. Music plays when their time is up. As though hypnotized, Gabriella looked up at an imaginary TV suspended above her head.

“Okay, I can see the scene in my mind,” she said.

He wanted to know how she felt.

She was done—that’s how she felt. But she wasn’t going to say that now, on this street corner, on the way to dinner with Jessica and Raul. Gabriella wanted something else. Someone else. Isn’t that what she wanted? But was it the questioning that kept her from getting it? “I don’t feel like talking anymore,” she said.

The light had changed, but Gabriella didn’t move. Cars and bikes kept rolling past. Rumbling. Cranking. Grinding. Bobby began to elaborate a theory. He explained it’s easier to remember a few things rather than many extraneous details. He asked if Gabriella had ever heard of the Law of Three. That’s optimal for recall. Anyway, he continued, the point is: Keep things simple. Beginning, middle, end. No reason to be boring anymore, he said. An advance for civilization. When a story is over, it’s simple: time to move on.

When he was done explaining, Gabriella was quiet. She considered going back to their apartment and packing up her things. But where would she go? Maybe Jessica’s place. Jessica was her best friend from college. Jessica knew how Bobby was, had brought it up a lot, but had recently stopped talking about it. Until Gabriella figured out a long-term plan, she could stay with Jessica and Raul. Or would it be awkward?

“There’s one more part to my idea,” Bobby said.

“I have a feeling I’m going to hear about it,” Gabriella said, looking up again at the imaginary television.

“Wait until we get to Raul and Jessica’s.”

Gabriella felt a familiar mesmerizing curiosity about Bobby’s idea. The stoplight turned green again and they crossed the street. Arms and legs straight and stiff, she moved like a sleepwalker.

The four of them sat down at the table and raised their wine glasses in a toast. Raul had a goatee like Bobby’s, and Jessica’s hair was arranged on the top of her head like Gabriella’s. “This reminds me of when the four of us had dinner at my grandmother’s old apartment in Queens,” Raul said.

Bobby pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. A loud buzzer sounded.

“What’s that about?” Raul asked, grimacing.

“We’ve heard that story before,” Bobby said.

“Oh no, Bobby,” Gabriella said.

Bobby didn’t look at her. He smiled at the others, then began to explain his theory that the world would be much improved if stories were short and told only once.

“Great idea,” Jessica said. “But why stop there? Relationships need a buzzer, too.”

– Mario Moussa