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“Did you just spit something?” he asked, sounding curious and amused … “Never would have pegged you as a spitter, Vivian.”
Eyes suddenly wide, I sat straight up, almost levitating from the bed, then rallied. “Only when it’s something not worth swallowing.”
Hello line, I believe I just crossed over you. I distinctly heard Clark choke on a sip of what I assumed was his Scotch.”
― Screwdrivered
Eyes suddenly wide, I sat straight up, almost levitating from the bed, then rallied. “Only when it’s something not worth swallowing.”
Hello line, I believe I just crossed over you. I distinctly heard Clark choke on a sip of what I assumed was his Scotch.”
― Screwdrivered
“Did I arch my back when his gazes finally made it to my chest? Of course I did. And was rewarded with a nostril flare, the equivalent of a facial boner.”
― Screwdrivered
― Screwdrivered
“I've had a lifetime of wrong. You're the only thing thats right.”
― Beautiful Oblivion
― Beautiful Oblivion
“I fucking love you, you goddamned librarian.”
― Screwdrivered
― Screwdrivered
“Puggle isn’t a word, Bridge.”
Letting her down gently had no effect. She stomped a boot on the ground, making the contents of the mystery pink bag rattle in her hand. “It is,” she insisted. “Ask someone.”
I looked from left to right, wondering who she was expecting me to stop. As busy as the park was, I couldn’t see a single person who looked knowledgeable in Australian wildlife. “What am I supposed to ask, Bridget?” I asked. “Excuse me ma’am, do you know what a puggle is?”
She raised her free hand, bouncing on the spot. “I know! I know!” she squealed. “It’s a baby ’chidna.”
I made a mental note to hold off on the sarcasm for a year or two. I decided to dazzle her with science instead. I took my phone from my pocket and Googled it – then had to eat my words because a baby echidna is indeed called a puggle.
“How can you possibly know the things you do?”
She grinned, reminding me too much of her mom. “I’m a smart girl, Ry.”
―
Letting her down gently had no effect. She stomped a boot on the ground, making the contents of the mystery pink bag rattle in her hand. “It is,” she insisted. “Ask someone.”
I looked from left to right, wondering who she was expecting me to stop. As busy as the park was, I couldn’t see a single person who looked knowledgeable in Australian wildlife. “What am I supposed to ask, Bridget?” I asked. “Excuse me ma’am, do you know what a puggle is?”
She raised her free hand, bouncing on the spot. “I know! I know!” she squealed. “It’s a baby ’chidna.”
I made a mental note to hold off on the sarcasm for a year or two. I decided to dazzle her with science instead. I took my phone from my pocket and Googled it – then had to eat my words because a baby echidna is indeed called a puggle.
“How can you possibly know the things you do?”
She grinned, reminding me too much of her mom. “I’m a smart girl, Ry.”
―
Claire’s 2025 Year in Books
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