God bless my creative writing professor for always trying to make us talk. You'd think that with a round table of fifteen college kids, we would have more to say than stifled commentary on each other's works--mine consisted of pointing out possible puns that turned out to be unintentional--but no. We were actually a relatively silent group. Silent to the point that crickets were too nervous to even break into it.
So my professor would try out some ice breakers--not my go-to, what do polar bears do line kinds--more like headlines from the day, asking if we voted, or seeing what television shows we watched. This day's clincher was, "So did any of you see the top careers for psychopaths?"
There were some raised eyebrows and some surprised looks, but other than that, nothing. No voices. No hums of negative.
"Yeah," he continued, undeterred. "I think lawyers and politicians are actually on the top of the list." He took a sip from his mug of green tea, an addition I noticed after two weeks of silence from us. "Broadcasters too apparently."
We sat there looking at one another a little dumbly as my professor went back to drinking his green tea, and I took my chance.
"So street magicians and mimes are okay?"
My professor looked up immediately. "What was that?"
I felt my face heat up under the sudden scrutiny by everyone. "So there's a lower chance of anything being wrong with mimes?"
My professor laughed. "I guess so, so take comfort in that."
I nodded along, shrinking slightly in my seat, then the girl across the table piped up with, "How do mimes even eat?"
I sat up and looked at her, head tilted in disappointment. "What?"
Her look mirrored mine slightly. "How do mimes even eat?" she repeated.
I looked at the table at large to see if they were hearing exactly what I was, and when no one really reacted, I shrugged, taking it upon myself to explain to this sad, sad girl, just exactly what she was mistaken with. "Oh," I started a little regrettably. "Um." I hunched my shoulders and brought my hand up and started to pretend to scoop imaginary food from an imaginary plate into my mouth. I chewed my imaginary food and pretended that the imaginary flavors were pleasing to my palate.
When I opened my eyes to see how she took this, also to see how well my miming skills were going, the girl's face was that of mild disgust and confusion. I continued with a little more vigor, before giving up due to a lack of appreciation.
The girl looked at our professor, who looked at me. He had a stifled laugh. "No," he cut in, sobering. "She means is it a viable job," he informed me. He turned back to her. "She's just showing you how mimes would actually eat."
The girl laughed, eyeing me above her laptop screen. "I was wondering..." she muttered as I pulled my hands and sat on them for the rest of the class. At least, I figured, I wasn't a psychopath.