Blunt.

Originally written 9.1.2012 Writings from my universe. Smiling eyes and glittering nails.

“People don’t like how blunt I am,” he began.

“What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I mean, someone will ask me a question, right?”

She nodded.

“And then, when I answer it, they get all offended.”

Her brow furrowed.

“For example,” he continued, “if someone asks me what’s wrong, I will tell them - because they asked. Like ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ ‘Oh, I just got elbowed in the crotch by a short person.’”

She stifled a giggle. He smiled in return.

“That may be funny to you, but other people don’t seem to like it. I mean, if you don’t want the answer, don’t asking the mother flippin’ question, ‘na’mean?”

She nodded once more, covering her widening smile with her hands.

The smile, though covered by ringed fingers with glittering nails, warmed his heart on that cold winter’s day. He sipped his latté, hoping to warm the rest of his body, but consequently burning his lips. He gasped and sputtered, latté dripping from his chin.

Her body shook with laughter.

His blue eyes narrowed, meeting her smiling brown ones.