Operation

“Oh, there you are.” He looked up at the sound of her voice. Nervously, he tried to cover the paper he was writing on with his hands. Which only focused her attention on the scribbles and marks. “What are you doing?” When he stuttered, she looked up at his face. “And why are you so flushed? Are you getting sick?”

She put a hand to his forehead with deep concern. The action only embarassed him further, deepening his blush. As he was focused on the pleasure of her touch, she took advantage of his distraction and snatched the working paper from under his hovering hand.

“Ah! No! It’s nothing! I can explain!” His eyes widened in fear as she calmly looked over the squiggles. “It’s nothing. Just… nothing.”

“This is odd math.” He only nodded. “Were you trying to write something for Sunday Scribblings?” He started to nod, then stopped at the implication. He furrowed his brow, and looked at her strangely.

“What would you know about Sunday Scribblings?” He tried to snatch the paper back from her, but she held it close and laughed.

“I know I’m not the only one that had a problem coming up with a submission for this week. Here’s mine. Tell me what you think.” She held out a small folded paper to him with a strange somberness. Carefully he took it, and unfolded it.

“Operation: My preference is to be with you. I can’t divide my fondness, but I can multiply my expressions of delight when we have fun together. I look to add more years to our relationship, and while reducing subtracting the degree of conflicts we have.”

He looked up at her, smiling. She now was the one blushing a warm and welcoming hue. “Yea, well, I was trying the math approach, because I thought maybe my first thought was too gory.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded paper of his own, warm and curved to the seat of his pants. She took it with mirthful giggles, unfolded and read…

“If you took anymore of my heart away, I’d need a heart transplant. But I’d rather waste away than see you through a needless operation. Because you’re worth all my heart and more.”

She raised an eyebrow at his words. The two stood silently for a while, then began chuckling. The embrace came naturally and without words. The papers fell from their hands to make room for each other, and the wind carried the words away.

This work inspired by, and written for Sunday Scribblings #291: Operation. Or so the papers handed to me by the wind in a dream would infer.