Katjia and Mika

Katjia and Mika had been friends for a long time. They had a lot in common. They were exactly the same age for one thing. They shared a love of long-sleeved tops and skinny jeans. And they both knew the way that the right accessory - a scarf tied just so, or a swingy, colourful bag, could finish off an outfit perfectly. But just recently Katjia had started to find Mika a little irritating.

Today, for instance, they'd only been out shopping for an hour and already Mika wanted to go home. 'My back is aching like you wouldn't believe,' she said, resting against a small, conveniently placed shelf, although a  less conveniently placed spike on the side of the shelf kept jabbing her. 'I think my bag is too heavy. Or maybe it's because of my long feet. You have small feet Katjia. You don't know what it's like.'

Katjia sighed. 'Mika,' she said sternly. 'Can you see what I'm holding?' 'Well I can see something,' said Mika, 'but I can't quite make out what it is. Maybe I need glasses.' 'It's my phone,' said Katjia. She needed, she decided, to do something to shake Mika out of this silly phase she was going through. 'Do you know how many other friends I have in the phonebook?'
'I know it's a lot.' Mika tried to smile but her arm felt weird. Broken or something. Maybe her too-heavy bag had caused some kind of dislocation.
'Four hundred and twenty,' said Katjia. 'And any one of them would come racing down here in a flash if I called them to go shopping with me.'  

Well why not just call them then? thought Mika, irritably. Her back was really killing her now. Her feet were aching too. Why couldn't Katjia be a little more sympathetic? And why did they have to go shopping every weekend? What about doing something different once in a while? Going to a movie. Even a museum or a gallery. Did Katjia even know that Mika was interested in 20th Century modernism?

But then Mika started to feel bad. Katjia was, after all, her oldest friend. They had held a joint 18th birthday party just last month. And for all her talk of her numerous friends Mika knew that not one of them could set the angle of Katjia's scarf  like she did.

'Well OK then,' she said. 'Maybe just for another hour.'