Catnap on a Monday late morning.... go figure...
So what’s yours like?
Sporting, beautiful and brilliant. What about yours?
Eccentric, kooky,… and sexy.
Brian choked. Yo, man. You’re so gone.
He chugged down the coke. You’re telling me. I’m taking her.
Suit yourself.
He got up and tugged her arm. Let’s go.
Where to? If it aint cold, I aint goin’.
You want cold? I can do that.
And bubble milk tea. Gotta have that too.
Bubble milk tea and cold. Got it.
How about them? Aren’t they tagging along?
Nope. They got other plans. Something along the lines of balls.
What?
Tennis.
Oh. Fine. Mmm, where we’re going, anywhere that I can catch a catnap?
Oh, sure. This place allows you to crash. Nice couches.
Cool. I need to crash with my bubble.
Bubb… oh yeah, your tea.
Half an hour later. You’re right. This is cool.
Naturally.
Cocky.
That too.
He grinned when she chuckled.
An apron walked up. What d’ya want, G?
The usual, Sam. The lady here wants bubble milk tea… flavour?
He glanced over at her.
Original, thank you.
But, of course. Original bubble, Sam, and dim the lights a little at this corner? We’re gonna catch some Zs.
No prob, hon. Be back.
And the apron glided off on air pumps.
You sure it’s alright to lie here and snooze?
Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll watch out for you. You don’t snore, do you?
I’ll refrain from doing so in public.
Just checking. How long you need?
Fifteen to twenty. You?
Ten to fifteen. Go ahead.
He looked on as she laid down flat on her back and made herself comfortable, opened her palms and feet open at 30 degrees, her usual yoga style.
You sleep like roadkill usually?
This is the corpse pose. Nudges you along calm and sleep.
He raised his eyebrows. Okie.
And he snuggled down on the other couch himself, crossed his arms on his chest.
She turned her head to peer at him.
You sleep like a mummy embalmed usually?
Brings over the concerned chicks to check if I’m well and alive.
She chortled. Okie.
They napped in comfortable silence, each quietly noting Sam’s softened steps and the dull chink of glasses on the table. She reached out for a sip, then she settled back.
Ten minutes later, He got up and took his mocha. He watched her chest rise and fall gently. Then he laid back down. He heard her shift a little.
You awake?
He asked.
No, actually I’m floating above my body and sneering down at your rendition of King Tut.
He chuckled. His phone rang. He merely pressed a button on his earpiece. Yeah?
Yo, G. Whatcha doing?
Waiting for roadkill here to miraculously rise from her comatose.
Hey.
Wow, G. You really knocked her off her feet. I’m impressed. But do you have to do it on Barbara’s couch? It’s public, you know.
Shut up, Brian.
Listen, when your kill’s conscious, let’s meet up for eats.
If she ever regains consciousness.
I am breathing over here, you know.
