You’ve changed everything.
First we played on the seesaw, teetering about its fulcrum. Then, you saw a stray cur and fed it some bacon, enjoying the happy smacks its tongue made, letting you know the treat was m-ful.
I like to gussy up for our dates because feeling sexy in style is like a second smile. “Ug! The sys faulted and our tickets were not reserved? Oh, okay. Yes, orchestra-center seats would be an acceptable alternative.”
You can not convince me that the oshibori does not feel better on the face than on the hands; I have pocket sanitizer for the latter anyway. “Oo, his rib about my social faux pas has me steamed–much like the oshibori that felt sooo nice on my countenance.”
The doorman so impressed me with his empressem; let us ask him if he would like to join us for some hot cider and conversation after his shift. Alas, those mems on the lobby’s notice board indicate a karaoke jam is on tonight, so maybe we can have, instead of jams as a duet, a singing spree of three.
“Er, honey, give vet hug, candy.” ; )