Word of the day: Disaster
Leslie admired the corner chair that now sat in the middle of their garage while Marty thumbed through a comic book he found after scoring no albums.
“I’ll have to find just the right fabric for this chair. The ones I already have won’t work in the dining room.” She surveyed the garage, annoyed at what she classified as a mess. “This place is a disaster.
“It’s hardly a disaster.” Marty didn’t look up from his comic. “Your workspace is cleaner than most hospitals.”
“I can’t believe you bought a comic.”
“I couldn’t resist. I thought about buying one called Garnet Girl because it came with a toy ring. I had never heard of it. But, this is an old Three Stooges comic. Who has one of these? No one.”
‘You’re so weird.”
“Hi, Mommy.” Their six-year old son Mason bounced into the garage clutching a stuffed tiger.
“Hi, buddy.” Leslie knelt down and bopped his nose.
“Did you get a new chair, Mommy?”
“I did. Do you like it?”
Mason nodded and studied the chair for several silent seconds. A half smile formed on his cherubish face and he held out the tiger to the chair. The child smiled wider, nodded, and walked away. He walked a few steps away, turned back, and waved before exiting back into the house.
Leslie furrowed her brow and chuckled. “Did he just wave to the chair?”
Marty snickered and closed his comic. “And you think I’m weird.”
“He gets it honest.”
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