Fiction 97

“Turn the volume down.” he says, slowly shifting the hair on her neck, so he could kiss it.

“But it’s your favourite song!” she laughs.

“I know. But it’s distracting me.”

“Oh my God. Are you okay? You sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?” she laughs, mock checking his temperature.


“Because I am distracting you from music. That, by far, is the biggest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“You should write a book on how to turn the randomest of things into compliments.”

“Of course I should. Do you know I look at myself in the mirror and go – “Mwah! You’re beautiful. I love you!”, these days?”

“You actually do that?” he laughs

“Of course I do. Why?” she snuggles in, breathing in the smell of  yesterday’s cologne and today’s rum, mixed with a hint of tobacco. His smell.

“Stop sniffing me like a dog. You’ve finally started to listen to what I’ve been telling you all these years. I am so incredibly proud of you right now.” he says, pulling her closer.

“That’s it!” she laughs. “I am calling the doctor right now.”

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