Ship Wrecked (Spoiler Alert, #3)

by Olivia Dade

“Were those cheese curds supposed to squeak against my teeth?” She couldn’t hold back a tiny shudder. “Because the sound was incredibly disturbing.” He stopped in his tracks and scowled at her. “Yes, they’re supposed to squeak. That’s how you know they’re good!” “I see,” she said with what she considered exemplary diplomacy. “Then those were excellent cheese curds, clearly. Very . . . noisy.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me, Pippi.” “No, no.” Her long, unhurried lick of her ice cream was a taunt, and they both knew it. “Who doesn’t want to eat a food product that, when chewed, sounds like distressed mice were set loose in your mouth?”

The world went on, always, and there was still beauty in it. Even when he couldn’t see that beauty. And there had been so many years when he couldn’t, anywhere but onstage and on set, where he could be somewhere else. Someone else. Someone who could offer and receive uncomplicated love and appreciate the resilience of the living.