The following is a short story that may, or may not, be true.

Dianna Prince walked into her regular Praha haunt looking to unwind from a week tied to the computer where third-world Internet bested her along with a few hiccups in Internet etiquette. The dingy yellow walls painted with Bob Marley murals were, indeed, a welcomed sight.

“Ah, Dianna! Ahoj!”
“Mohammed! Good to see you, a-hoj!”

Sitting amongst her friends, she felt strangely at home in this most, foreign of places.

“So, where have you been my love?” he said.
“Busy working, nothing fun just a lasso here, a boomerang there with a few clicks in between.”
“You’ll work yourself to death, my dear. You must take break.”
“This is why I’m here, Mohammed, this is why I’m here."

The two laughed as he left ordering a couple of drinks. Dianna unbundled settling in for a couple of hours of good talk and drink in the smoke-filled den. Before she knew it, a group of her buddies surrounded her at the little table where she sat.

“Chuck, man, where have you been?”
“I’ve been here? What of you? How was your holiday?”
“Wow, it’s been that long, eh? Holiday was lovely. Were you here or in Nigeria?”

And on it went. As their conversation kicked up, Bob Marley jumped off the walls as his voiced filled the room.

Could you be loved and be loved?
Could you be loved and be loved?

As the conversation progressed, perhaps, it was good ol’ Bob’s sound of urgency that got Chuck to thinking, but it was likelier the large pint of Czech Staromeska boosting his confidence.

“Why I never see you with man?”
“Ah, that’s because I don’t have man.”
“You must be pretty strong woman to go without man for so long...like Super or Wonder or something,” he said.
“Actually, it's a bit of both,” Dianna replied with a sly wink.

Dianna looks cautiously around for a little help in subject change from Mo and his crew.

“Hahaha! You don’t have man?” Mohammed said proving he was clearly of no help. “Why not?”

As the silence fell once again, Bob sang from the rafters.

Don't let them fool ya,
Or even try to school ya! Oh, no!
We've got a mind of our own,
So go to hell if what you're thinking is not right!

“Don’t you want someone to make you happy? Everyone needs someone to make them happy,” Chuck persisted.
“Um, well, sure. Everybody wants to be happy, don’t they?” Dianna replied.
 
Could you be loved and be loved?
Could you be loved, wo now! — and be loved?

“So, Mo—” Dianna said attempting a switch in gears.
“I would be willing to help you with that,” Chuck cut in eagerly.

Bada ba ba-ba dum dum dum
Bada ba ba-ba dum dum dum
Could you be loved and be loved?
 
“Huh? Help me with what?”
“You know, making you happy. I would be willing to work with you there.”
 
Oh, holy shit. Now what to do? Looking around for help, Dianna received none as all of her friends quietly awaited her response.

The road of life is rocky and you may stumble too,
So while you point your fingers someone else is judging you
Love your brotherman!

Now is not the time Bob, Dianna thought.

“Ok, well, thanks. I'm a think on that one, k?” she laughed lifting her glass in a toast.

Chuck smiled clicking their glasses together as Dianna turned back to Mohammed believing she eased out of that one by the thin skin of her supersuit, which instantly started to chafe. In Mohammed’s conversation, everything was as it should be: he and his crew considered buying the latest hot item from Mark and Spencer’s from a representative not working for Mark and Spencer's.

“Are these stones real? One of them asked.
“Baaaah! For 24 Euro? Hell no, those aren’t real,” Dianna said barging into their conversation.
“How long do you need to think about it?” Chuck wondered aloud blowing smoke in her face.

In the stunned silence that followed, Bob's serenade continued as Dianna waved the smoke away wishing she could do the same with the question.

Don't let them change ya, oh!—
Or even rearrange ya! Oh, no!
We've got a life to live.
They say: only —only—
only the fittest of the fittest shall survive—
Stay alive! Eh!

DAMN IT. Old Chuckie boy didn’t pick up the hint. There wasn’t enough time to think about an easy let down so Dianna decided on ye old faithful—the gawd-aweful truth. A truth she painstakingly avoided admitting to other people.

“See, Chuck. Here’s the thing. It’s quite complicated for me as I’m wanting something long-term, something special. As I get periodic calls to serve, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here and I don’t see the point in flinging it around while I am, if you know what I mean.”

His face dropped reminding Dianna of a disappointed Thumper from Disney’s Bambi.

“But when I see you, I’m always happy to see you and when you are not here, I think about you,” he said.
“Oh, um, well, I didn’t know that. That’s really nic—”
“Hey! Where can I sit?”

Oh, thank heaven. Dianna’s good friend finally arrived pulling up a chair between her and Chuck, thus, saving the day.

You ain't gonna miss your water until your well runs dry;
No matter how you treat him, the man will never be satisfied.
Say something!

Taking Bob's advice, Dianna decided on saying this:

“You wanna grab something to eat?” she asked her saviour.

On the way out, Dianna weighed the cost of speaking her heart instead of her mind. No, it wasn’t what she expected—all her secrets outed—but that’s how Reggae often was and that was why she liked it. There's always a lesson and this time she learned it. She told the truth and the world didn’t end in castrophe. In fact, it kept on spinning right along with the party.

Could you be - could you be - could you be loved?
Could you be - could you be loved?

Yeah Bob, she could be love and—*gasp*—be loved, she hummed as the music suffocated in the smoke-filled room behind the closing door. Dianna went home alone to strip of the blue suit she wore under her regular clothes but not empty. Everybody, even those full of superfluous wonder, needs a healthy dose of self-inflicted truth just like everybody needs a little Reggae.

THE END