Yesterday James and I were driving to Value Village after work to find a Halloween costume for him, and as I often do, I reached over and patted his leg. I was about to say that he was nice and soft, but then I said, “wait a minute, you’re not soft at all. You’re bony as hell! Like a … bowling ball. Covered in… something soft.”
“Oh, like the plasticky wrapping stuff?” he said. “The kind they put on Asian pears?”
“Yeah, you’re like an Asian pear.”
Later on in the evening (driving home from Value Village, not having found anything) he reached over and squeezed MY leg.
“aww my little Asian pear… wait a minute, you’re not like an Asian pear at all. You’re like a… a ripe plum. Soft on the inside with a tight little skin holding all the delicious softness in. Well, maybe not. Maybe a medium-ripe plum. But the more you poke it the quicker it ripens.”
“That’s not true at all! It just gets bruised.”
“No, it gets sweeter. Just like you.”
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