Fiction 70

“You’re so fair.” he says, running his fingers across her arm. “Like milk, your skin is.”

“Bah. Am not fair. Am wheatish.”

He grabs her arm, puts his right next to her and says  “See this? This is wheatish. You really have to get your eyes tested. Soon.”

“Which reminds me… Where are my glasses? You took them off last night.”

“Should be on the bedside table. Go check.”

“That’s the point. I can’t see without my glasses. It’s a never-ending cycle, this!”

“Calm down. We will find them. They can’t take flight, can they?”

“Knowing my luck, they can!”

He looks under the bed, searches behind the pillows, and finally finds them beneath the mattress.

“Here they are. So much drama you do!” he smiles.

“What would your life be, without my drama?” she laughs.

Very boring, I have to admit. Or very quiet, depending on how you look at it.”

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