“You people?” Omolola snapped as the cold energy radiating from her palms enveloped the air. “What you mean ‘you’ people?”
“Breathe,” Oshun pleaded. “He meant no harm.”
“Bullshit!” Omolola cried as the icy blue aura ripped through her forearms, causing pain she was too enraged to acknowledge. “I dare him to say it again!”
INT. HOUSE – DAY
MAN seated at TABLE. Listening to HEADPHONES. Drinking COFFEE from MUG.
Sound bleeds from MAN’s headphones. Indecipherable talking. Sound effects from headphones. Screams. Lasers. Swords.
WOMAN seated across from MAN. Staring intently at LAPTOP. Drinking COFFEE from MUG which has BRIDE boldly inscribed on its face.
You’re addicted to headphones.
WOMAN looks up. Intensely stares at man. Awaiting an answer. Slightly irritated expression.
MAN looks up. Matches eyes with WOMAN. Removes headphones.
WOMAN stares for a beat.
MAN smiles at WOMAN. Returns headphones to ears. Increases VOLUME.
Oh the joys of living with a non artist, non-creative partner.
I’m trying to have a deep, productive conversation about branding and creating content in a way that will attract new readers, and my partner would rather talk about my dry lips.
“Your lips are dry,” She said.
“I’m focused on branding and creating. Not lips,” I reply, slightly irritated. “I don’t need distractions right now.”
“Your lips are a distraction,” She said before yucking like a hyena.
“I guess… yeah,” I dryly replied. “My lips are a distraction.”
She laughs harder.
I don’t find distractions of any kind amusing. Obviously she does.
I’ll make sure to distract her when she wants to have a discussion topics that are important to her. Like Cyber Security. Or BACON.