The Quiet Sunday Bet

Zoe and Brielle share a small flat. They are best friends. They also love to talk. They talk at breakfast, at dinner, and in the hall.

On Saturday night, Brielle says, "We talk too much."

"No, we don't," says Zoe. "We talk the right amount."

"Let us make a bet," says Brielle. "Tomorrow is Sunday. Nobody talks all day. The first person to speak buys pizza."

Zoe laughs. "That is easy. I win."

"We will see," says Brielle.

On Sunday morning, Zoe wakes up at nine. She walks to the kitchen. Brielle sits at the table with a cup of coffee. She looks at Zoe and lifts one eyebrow.

Zoe does not say a word. She pours a cup of coffee. She sits down and looks at Brielle. Brielle looks back. Neither of them smiles.

After ten minutes, Zoe takes a pen. She writes on a paper napkin, "Good morning, loser."

Brielle reads it. She writes below, "You are the loser. You lose already."

Zoe writes, "I am not talking. See?"

Brielle writes, "You write. That is also noise."

They both put their hands over their mouths. Their shoulders shake. It is very hard not to laugh.

At noon, Zoe is hungry. She opens the fridge. There is only half an onion and some old cheese. She holds the cheese up and shrugs. Brielle shakes her head. She points to the clock. She points to her stomach, then to the door.

Zoe nods. They put on their coats. They walk to the shop on the corner.

The shop is busy. A young man stands at the counter. He wears a green apron. He looks at the two women. They look at him. Nobody speaks.

Zoe points to the bread. She points to the cheese. She makes a circle with her hands. The young man looks lost.

"A big loaf?" he asks.

Zoe nods fast.

"With the soft cheese?"

Zoe nods again. Brielle gives her a thumb up. The young man smiles and wraps the food.

At the door, Zoe draws a smile in the air. The young man laughs. He waves goodbye.

Back at home, they eat in the living room. Brielle draws a picture of a pizza on a napkin. Under it, she writes, "You will buy this."

Zoe draws Brielle with a very long nose. She writes, "Not me."

By six o'clock, they are both red in the face. Their jaws hurt from holding in words. They watch a film with no sound. Something funny happens. They look at each other and bite their lips.

At seven, Brielle looks at her phone. She smiles in a strange way. Zoe sees it but says nothing. At eight, the doorbell rings. They both jump up. They look at each other. Zoe thinks it is a trick.

Brielle opens the door. A delivery man stands there with a flat box. It smells wonderful.

"Pizza for Zoe?" he asks.

Zoe's mouth falls open. She forgets everything. "I did not order a pizza," she says loudly.

"Aha!" shouts Brielle. "You talked!"

"So did you!" says Zoe.

The delivery man looks at them. They laugh until they cry.

"Who pays?" he asks.

They both point at him. Then they both point at each other.