Walks

Juice was moaning at my kitchen table today, saying, “I can’t believe I ate an apple while I’m wearing cherries. This is such an inconsistent phase!”

“I can’t believe you’re studying from a blank notebook,” I said. “Nothing you do is consistent, Juice, but I take French. I’m smart.”

“Are you smart enough to know what a ‘walk’ is?” Juice asked.

“Um, no.”

That’s when Juice introduced me to the world of “walks.”

“A walk is when you walk somewhere, enjoying the outdoors,” she explained as we walked toward Greasy Burgers.

“Makes sense,” I said, pushing the glass door open without using the pushbar. “I love putting my greasy fingerprints on Greasy Burger’s glass doors,” I told her. “That makes sense too. See how logical I am?”

“You wanna talk logical?” Juice smirked. “Look. When I touch this super-size cola painted on the wall, it looks like I’m holding it.”

“Big deal,” I said.

Borel then interrupted us, gushing that the library had received a new supply of French books.
“Floating hearts come out of them when you open them,” she said.

So Juice and I are heading to the library, figuring the floating hearts will visibly express our love for the dreamy nerds who work there. Wish us luck!