Prompted by: Jeri T. Ryan
The crazy author says: I’m alive, Miss Jeri! Aliiiiiive… 😘😘😘
That’s my cue to leave.
He grins. “Unless you’d care to join me.”
What a dick. I drive my shoulder hard into his chest and deliver a solid elbow jab to the sternum. Legit ninja moves.
Somebody give this man an Oscar. He doesn’t even flinch. Just casually loops an arm around my waist and chuckles, “Hey, I’m injured here.”
I’d forgotten how this feels. The comfort. The ease. The false sense of security. I can’t handle this feeling. It’s all too familiar.
Lucky for me, Noah’s voice drifts over to us, “Mom.”
Twitch immediately retreats to a safe, family-friendly distance.
Holding his gaze, I call back, “Yeah, champ?”
“We don’t have peanut budder.”
It’s official. Mispronounced words are my new favorite thing. “We won’t need any this time.”
“Ohhh,” I hear him yawn. “Okay.”
Once Noah goes silent, Twitch tilts his head to the side. He’s clearly confused. Which is pretty adorable.
“Our last patient loved peanut butter,” I explain with an innocent shrug. “It kept him distracted while we played doctor.”
“And exactly how many patients have you distracted?”
What’s the prompt for next week, guys?
Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.