he can't make me
me: i don't want to go.
him: you're going.
me: do i have to?
him: you can't back out now, already got a dress.
me: i think i still have the reciept in my room.
him: no you don't, i went in your room while you were in the shower and threw it away.
me: i'll dumpster dive for it.
him: i ripped it to shreds.
me: i have tape.
him: i burnt it.
me: .....
him: yeah.
me: you.... burnt it?
him: yup! now you can't back out.
me: um...
him: what is it?
me: i don't 'do' dances.
him: not even christmas dances?
me: no cooper, not even.
him: you're not human, i know it.
me: what?
him: there's a first time for everything! and look, we're here! let's go have fun!
me: sure, if that's what you call it.
him: stop talking for a second and dance with me.
me: ....
him: yeah, i know - you wear the pants in this friendship.
me: come on moron, let's dance.
written on a dirty napkin
YOU ARE READING
little talks
Randomi needed to write down almost everything he had said, to reassure myself that he had been real, that we were something that lasted; at least for a little while. - nina [ © jude rigor two-thousand-&-thirteen ]
