￼ Two Squirrels. One tree. Who'll blink?
￼ When the screen shattered, three months of torturous work splintering into hundreds of tiny pieces, she looked my way and glared. "I'm sorry, love," I said. "He'd evolved," she growled. "Sorry." "Doesn't matter." "Oh!" "He was the wrong colour, anyway." "How about I get you a real one?" "Will he break?" "One day, perhaps." […]
Perfect couples always think the same. He: She looks just like her poodle. She: He looks just like its food. Ah, not quite perfect after all.
The crow stared at me, I stared at the crow. Beady, ebony eyes took me in, as my own blue did the same. He hopped back and forth, agitated, I swayed unwilling to give in. And right there and then we shared an undeniable truth: we were both so bored.