The room was a bit stifling. Not too hot, but it felt too warm for comfort. There was also a peculiar odour emitting from somewhere nearby. The cafeteria lady in front of me had apparently been so buried within the smells that she didn’t notice. I paid for my chicken burger, and strolled back to my table.

Binks was sitting there. And Andrew, and Amy. Cory and Jeff were also present. I tossed the chicken burger and mayo onto the table, and pulled out my chair to sit down. Per the usual routine, Binks began to sniff at my burger, trying to discern whether the meat contained within was edible. In a way, he behaved like a dog who was unsure if he should eat from the table, or stick to the floor.

“How much do those cost?”

Andrew knew. I don’t know why he was asking. He knew the cost of a chicken burger.

“Two bucks.”

He cocked one eyebrow and stared across the table.

“I remember, way back when, they used to be $1.75.”

Binkle and I looked shocked and, in unison, rhymed out, “Yeah, back in Grade 9!”

This is when a cataclysm occured. A life changing even of pure utter madness that you only expect to happen in the movies, or perhaps on a Seinfeld episode.

“Why do you have to snap on him? He said ‘way back when’. Why do you have to be so overanalytical?”

Amy’s words cut the air like a sawblade. We were all confused as to what exactly had triggered this sudden, irrational outburst. Perhaps there was a toxin in the air that affected the brains of women. It seemed plausible. Everyone else at the table was equipped with a penis. The toxin would have only latched to her.

But no. It wasn’t that. There wasn’t any reason. It was truly random. She was yelling at us, over the price of a chickenburger.

“What?” yelped Binks, in a state of painful confusion, “we just pointed out that it was in Grade 9. There is a difference between ‘way back when’ and ‘Grade 9′. I was born ‘way back when’. World War One was ‘way back when’.”

And so it continued. Words were exchanged. The senseless debacle continued.

Finally, when it had reached its climax, Amy said, “Forget it. I clearly can’t win against you guys in an arguement.” Her eyes welled up in tears and she stormed off in a fit. Andrew, her boyfriend, did not follow.

Instead, he sat there. Silently. And after a long silence, he said, “I just wanted to point out that it was cheaper.”

Everyone started laughing. And that seemed like the end.

Now, Binks and I are on Amy’s badside. She is telling everyone that we make her feel terrible, and that she regrets having put up with us for a year. This is the complete opposite to what she told me during the summer.

So, everything becomes like crystal now. She only became friends with us to get to Andrew or myself. When she got one of us, the charade was over. There was no need to pretend we were all good friends. It was a thing of the past. In fact, our entire friendship has been a complete and utter crock.

And all of this unveiled because of a difference of 25 cents.

Is anyone there?

The room was cold. So cold. He didn’t know why it was, nor was he aware of how he knew it. But it was cold. It was unfriendly. The surgery tools that encircled the bed - the drills, the saws, the blades - were testament to that. They were an unfriendly greeting party for when he awoke.