"Your eyes have the colour of the moon." – Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
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"This is Westerden Optometrist, what are your symptoms?"
"Peanut! Is this thing working?"
"Why are you shouting like that?"
"I'm calling on my landline! Like, who even uses this crap anymore?"
"Why are you calling on your landline?"
"Oh, it's working properly. Okay. It's because I haven't had time to renew my smartphone plan yet, and I don't want to waste my money calling you."
"Wow, thanks. You're so kind."
"Kindness is for the weak and unpopular, like you."
"You're the rudest girl I've ever talked to."
"How many girls have you talked to?"
"Uhh..."
"I thought so."
"Did you hear about that renovated ice cream store at the mall?"
"Yeah, I think it's called Waffle Cones or something. Why?"
"I dunno, I just heard – uh, from a friend – that they have some delicious ice cream there. And I also have coupons for free ice cream from... an unnamed source."
"Peanut, are you trying to ask me out on a date?"
"What? No, absolutely not!"
"Oh. Um, good."
"..."
"..."
"Wow, this just got very awkward."
"You know what would make it not awkward?"
"What?"
"Your face."
"What's wrong with my face?"
"What's not wrong with your face?"
"Retina, do you want to give me a makeover or something?"
"Ooh, can I?"
"Hell no, get away from my precious face!"
"Aw, you're such a party pooper."
"You're such a– I got nothing."
"I win! I'm going to hang up now, since I need to get to cheer practice. Bye!"
"Uh, bye?"
YOU ARE READING
Eye Drops (#2)
Short Story"This is Westerden Optometrist. What are your symptoms?" "For starters, my eyesight has been super blurry and distorted, and this problem is starting to screw up seventeen-year-old life. Speaking of which, you sound kind of young for an optometrist...
