“Sunlight yesterday; dreary today,” he says.
I tease, “Oh, stop with the dismal diablerie, cad. It’s not gloomy. It’s simply a winter gloaming.”
“That’s not what I meant”, he says.
“Oh, I just thought you were awful fond of talking about the weather,” I panto, innocently.
” ‘Awfully’,” he mumbles.
“You are awfully fond of talking about weather?” I giggle, in mock with brown eyebrows arched.
“No. You meant to say ‘awfully fond’. Adverb not the adjective,” he says.
I howl in laughter, “Be careful telling me what I ‘meant to say’; because, you have no idea what I intend.”
There once was a boy.
And, there he was until he became.
He held himself still. Held fast and listened.
There did he discover he was himself
all over again.
She smiles, unobserved, from the corner.