Spending time with the Finn and me

I was bored, already before the Finn came into the coffee shop I was bored with her, and then she just ranted on about design my boredom grew. I just couldn't care any less, she only wanted to work at grand places, because a shitty design place would not understand her work, she was still months and month away from graduating. I had seen her illustrations, they were cute, but noting to them, but cute. I yawned, not literally, but my mind yawned and longed for a book to read. I had liked the small West Village coffee shop so much more before she had come.
I had to give her that, she really knew where all the nice coffee shops were, but we just had nothing in common, we shared nothing but the mere fact that we both had been born in Scandinavia and both missed our homes of origin. Even if her conversation seemed to drift towards wanting to move to my hometown. She wanted to get out of this loud and obnoxious town, and she asked if I knew any designers in Stockholm. I shook my head, but told her I might know some people in advertising. The Finn is a very tiny girl, she is delicate and dies her hair black, I wonder if you have to die your hair black to be an artist, maybe that is why I never really got into art, my hair just wouldn't turn black, it just turned all sorts of greenish dark.
The Finn let me know she was exhausted and she wanted more coffee, but her stomach just couldn't take anymore coffee. A typyical complain, just to complain, it wasn't even funny, cynical or anythign that mattered. She told me my stomach must be made out of tin, since I consumed a very redicoulus amount of coffee.
'Oh yeah' I thought to myself while trying to imagine what I would look like if I was all made out of tin. I laughed at myself, and the Finn looked at me as if I was crazy and I silently hoped she just hadn't told me about her father dying or something tragic. Aperently that wasn't the case and she kept on talking while I started to study a girl sitting in a corner reading a book. I wished I was her and longed after my book that was tucked into my bag under the table.