He was the apple of her eye. Much older in the years they had spent inhabiting Earth. Yet she had this incredible urge to pamper him. Mollycoddle him. Treat him like a baby. And be all mother hen to this adorable chick-ling. (I don’t care if chick-ling’s not a real word).
“Good morning!!” she squeals into the phone.
“Morning…” he manages to mutter. In his bedroom voice, which makes her weak at the knees, every time.
“Are you still asleep?” she asks.
“Err.. I was until you called and called and didn’t give up calling until you woke me up.”
“Well, you told me you didn’t care or bother about my incoming calls because they were free…”
“Hmm. . Is there a point to this conversation or can I go back to sleep now?”
“There is. Are you going to meet me tonight?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not going to meet you tonight?”
She gives up. Exasperated. But smiles inwardly. Because there will always be tomorrow. Always.
