Dearest Milton James

by N.R. Walker

“No. Unfortunately my standards exceed the availability pool. It’s been that way for a while now.”

Dear brain, Please disengage all talking operations. Actually, just shut down all mouth functionality. Cease all operations. Error 404, file not found, something to make it stop. I’d even take a fatal error, blue screen of death right now . . .

But Cherry was my favourite. Her introverted goth matched my extroverted rainbow like two sides of one coin.

His smile produced a dimple. A fucking dimple. Okay then. Hang up my lilac boots and cover me in carnations. It’s all over for me. Then, because I wasn’t dead enough, the fucker took off his glasses. He just took them off and slid them onto his desk like he took out a machete and cut me in half. That’s how dead I was. He mowed me down in my fucking seat.

I might look a little feisty on the outside, but I am complete marshmallow on the inside.” He seemed to find that amusing. “Feisty marshmallow. Got it.”

“Your ancestors thanked me?” “Right back to the Middle Ages.”

“I like that you can’t lie.” “Technically, I can lie. I just look like I’m being Tasered while trying.” “Tasered?” “Yes. High voltage impairment of physical function. A glitch in my matrix, an error 502 Bad Gateway kind of response.” He laughed and I pouted. “I also had the same reaction when you kissed me last night and when you did all that dirty talk today about doing the dishes and vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. That was when Cherry knew something was up because I was still malfunctioning when she found me.” Julian laughed and shot me a warm smile. “I just never know where a sentence is going to go when we talk.”

Anyway, I know we said we’d keep it on the down-low, but she’s better at the Scooby-Doo stuff than me. Actually, she’s more like Velma. I’m the Scooby-Doo one. Incredibly cute but not overly helpful.”