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Her Jeans

"Hand me that jar of honey," she says.

"This jar of honey?" I ask.

"Yes, that jar of honey," she says.

I hand it to her.

"This jar of honey is sticky," she says. "Now my hands are sticky."

"Iím sorry," I say. "I didnít realize that it was sticky. Want a towel for your hands?"

She wipes her hands off onto her jeans and shakes her head. I wouldnít wipe honey-covered hands on my jeans. Then my jeans and my hands would both be sticky. I wouldnít want my jeans to be sticky. But I donít feel like getting up to get her a towel so I say nothing about it. I let her wipe her sticky hands on her jeans.

"Would you still like to try some honey?" I ask her.

"No," she says. "Iím not in the mood for honey anymore."

"Alright," I say.

Story by:

Robin Sarkin

robin.sarkin@verizon.net

submitted at 2:52am

18 May 2010