He bent toward me a little and playfully whispered, "I don't have cooties, bird."
"Well, I might," I replied with mock offense.
"Oh, what a glorious death that would be, to die of your cooties."
"I'm not sure if I'm flattered or grossed out by that."
He made a face and bobbed his head uncertainly. "It sounded
better in my head."
— Aug 23, 2025 05:57PM
Add a comment