‘Sometimes I feel as though my mind moves too fast for me to ever catch up. I am a fisherman lost on a timeless sea.’ – Blake turned to give her a long looking over. “You really wrote this?”
Fancy shrugged. “What’s the big deal? So I like to write prose. So what?”
“Are you sure you’re using that right?”
“Huh?” Fancy cocked her head.
“Are you sure you’re using the word ‘prose’ right?” (He loved to watch her squirm. He could see the growing confusion on her face. The fear.)
“Pretty sure.” Fancy laughed. “Could you imagine? Maybe I have been walking around saying it wrong this whole time. Oh well. Who the fuck cares, right?”
“Right.”
“Come on, let’s get you something to eat. You look famished.” She rested her hand on his arm and ushered him out of the room. Her palm was firmly pressed against his shirt; he felt it like a brand. “I tried making this new kickin’ teriyaki recipe that I think you’re going to love. You can be my taste tester.”
The conversation restarted behind them.
