"doritos?"
He looked up. She had two packages of chips, hummus, two beers, a... bunch of grapes?... and a roll of paper towels precariously balanced in her arms. He knew the Ranch Doritos needed rescuing from her vice-like choke hold but . . .
"No, thank you."
she looked stunned, and rightfully so. the stairs, an easy climb for his long legs, always seemed to be challenge to her shortness. it didn't help that she had this natural stomping walk that wreaked havoc on an incline. still, if she didn't stomp, he wouldn't be able to hear her, and her presence still made him a little nervous, and... what? oh, yeah. back to the doritos.
"ok."
she slowly turned around, balancing on the first step. he pictured his top-heavy beauty's roller coaster ways, and knew he had to....
"Stop! Wait wait wait!"
she turned around, brightly smiling, hopeful.
"You can leave the Doritos."
"oh."
she trampled over, and dropped both doritos, one of the grapes, and the paper towels.
"canistay?"
"No, really, I have to finish this. It's almost a high school essay of madness over here."
"i could be real quiet. i won't even touch you!"
he considered the option. she'd lie down on the other side of the bed. she'd *crinkle-crinkle* open the chips. she'd make each dorito last seventeen bites "to savor it." she'd look for the paper towels, then audibly make that squeaky "oh!" sound that she does when she realized they were on his side of the bed. there'd be a tiptoe-stomp tiptoe-stomp tiptoe-stomp as she treaded all the way around the bed. she'd lean down, and sneaaaaaaaak the paper towel roll from in between his legs, then hopping on one foot all the way back to the other side of the bed, gently snickering like that one dog on the hanna-barbera cartoons. (snickerdootle? snickley?) all while tossing that mad mess of hair from side to side, and bouncing..... herself.
then, while she's reading, she'll move from one side. turn to the other side. lie on her belly. take a pillow. take another pillow. snort a grape. throw a grape and catch it in her....nose.
"No. I really have to get this finished."
she nodded shortly. she put a beer down on his nightstand, grabbed the paper towels and a doritos bag, and walked quietly out of the room.
each step laid his heart out flat.
he went back to his work, silently convincing himself he made the right choice. really, it had been a nice, quiet, productive afternoon until she had come in. it was sure to continue now that she was gone.
but, with each push of "enter"... with each tap on the space bar.... with each period at the end of the sentence, he felt a life put on pause until she came back.
correction, until she came stomping back.
because she stomped.
(stomp)
