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(Let's see if I can't drabble my way back toward finishing the big old WiP...)
100 words. Prompt: memo on a sticky note
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At least twice a day, Dee finds himself silently asking Ryo, “How are you real?” It defies belief, how precise his boyfriend is about cleaning guns, baking cookies, ironing shirt seams, and spacing seeds in flower boxes, and yet how oblivious he is to blatant flirting (incoming) and mixed signals (outgoing). How in God’s name does he expect anyone to take seriously the notes he scribbles them on Carol’s sparkly shoe-shaped sticky notes, or the ones with Hello Kitty?
But he does, because he’s Ryo, with a filter stronger than a warehouse HVAC. Dee sighs and tackles the twentieth-third note.
100 words. Prompt: memo on a sticky note
==
At least twice a day, Dee finds himself silently asking Ryo, “How are you real?” It defies belief, how precise his boyfriend is about cleaning guns, baking cookies, ironing shirt seams, and spacing seeds in flower boxes, and yet how oblivious he is to blatant flirting (incoming) and mixed signals (outgoing). How in God’s name does he expect anyone to take seriously the notes he scribbles them on Carol’s sparkly shoe-shaped sticky notes, or the ones with Hello Kitty?
But he does, because he’s Ryo, with a filter stronger than a warehouse HVAC. Dee sighs and tackles the twentieth-third note.
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