Me: Katie, what are you doing?
Katie: Writing.
M: Writing what?
K: A story. I thought I'd write a romance story.
M: But you've never had a romance.
K: Yeah. I thought I'd just write what you and Daddy do.
So why am I picturing a romance story that goes like this?
Teresa texted her beloved, Jerome, breathless with anticipation. She typed out the message with trembling fingers, her thoughts wandering to later that evening. She typed, "What do you want for dinner? I forgot to put out the chicken to thaw." As she was biting her scarlet lips -- they were a little chapped from the aggressive work air conditioning -- she typed, "Are you taking Katie to gymnastics or am I? Also, can you check the cat's eye to see if it's goopy? I think it's infected again."
Look for that on Amazon soon.
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