My popcorn tastes like shit. Probably my foot’s fault, tapping all that buttery goodness to the bottom. Won’t be able to eat the last few inches, I know it already.
She’s late. Highly unprofessional.
I laugh, but under my breath. The cinema isn’t packed, but there are people in front and behind me. Don’t want them thinking I’m mental.
Don’t want to draw attention to myself neither.
You know… technically, this is illegal.