Friday, May 13, 2011

Me Time

“It’s not you,” Dove said, “it’s the weeping willow. I think I’m allergic.”     
     “That’s the best you can do?”
     “This is our future. If you loved me, you’d take Benadryl.”
     It was the first time the L-word had passed between them. Dove felt a strange foreboding. “Too sleepy-making,” he said, after too long a pause.
     “Claritin, then.” She was getting hissy.
     “Maybe,” he said, “I need some me-time.”
     Swan’s magnificent wings flared, catching Dove upside the head. “I did not just do that,” she said, slamming her beak bitterly into the willow trunk.
     “It’s not you,” Dove said. “Listen…”

The sequel to this story is Newspaper Koan.

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