Empty Nest Hatchling Syndrome

Recently overheard in a modern bookstore with windows painted shut:

MAN: Tits.
WOMAN: What's wrong with you?
MAN: Sorry.
OTHER WOMAN: Hello there! Fancy seeing you here.
WOMAN: Yes, no one comes here anymore.
OTHER WOMAN: Can just anyone come here and circle their wagons?
WOMAN: The sign on the door demands it be unlocked during business hours.
OTHER WOMAN: Ah!  The door gives permission.
WOMAN: Can a door, or any inanimate object, even if a human has placed words on it, truly give us permission?
OTHER WOMAN: If we can't give ourselves permission, why do we expect others to give us persimmons?
MAN: Who expects persimmons?
WOMAN: I agree with her, she's got the right idea about fruit.
OTHER WOMAN: You'd love my therapist.
WOMAN: Oh really?
OTHER WOMAN: Yes! She's like if Jeffrey Dahmer and Johnny Cochran had court-ordered the perfect health food menu at a lunch counter in an old-timey pharmacy in Oxnard.
MAN: Tits.
OTHER WOMAN: What did he say?
WOMAN: She said "tits."  It's all she says.
MAN: That's not true.
OTHER WOMAN: Is it like Tourette's?
WOMAN: More like towelettes.
MAN: Tits rhymes with towelettes.
OTHER WOMAN: Anyway, since I've been fleeced I feel so much better.
WOMAN: Really.
OTHER WOMAN: Oh yes.  My ranchers are so gentle with the shears, and afterwards there might be enough for a coat!  Or maybe a small blanket to wrap about yourself when you snuggle up with one another after a hard day of codeine and calisthenics.
WOMAN: I don't believe I have wool.
OTHER MAN: Kafka?
WOMAN: Yes?
OTHER MAN: ...
WOMAN: What did you need?
OTHER MAN: I was looking for Kafka.
WOMAN: Yes?
OTHER MAN: Oh! Is your name Kafka?
WOMAN: No, do I look like a depressed Czech bastard with big ears?
OTHER MAN: Then why wouldn't you just show me where the Kafka is?
OTHER WOMAN: She's just fucking with you.
MAN: Tits.
OTHER WOMAN: She doesn't work here.
OTHER MAN: Oh!  Then who does?
WOMAN: No one.
OTHER MAN: So then I can just take any book I want?  Do I grab a book and pay for it on the honor system?  Is there some kind of safe or box I put the money in at the front?
WOMAN: You're over-thinking this.
OTHER WOMAN: Yes.
OTHER MAN: I am?
WOMAN: Look.
OTHER MAN: What?
WOMAN: You see?  No books!
OTHER MAN: I'll be damned!
MAN: Ti... Oh never mind.
WOMAN: Good girl.