I was making some writing notes this morning and reflecting on heroes and what qualities they should have. I’m not sure the two characters in this story are quite on the same page…
“I’ve found him at last: the perfect man.”
“What, him?”
“Absolutely! OK, he’s a little short, but what a body! And he looks really young for his age.”
“I’ll give him that.”
“He’s quiet, and I’ll bet he’s a great listener.”
“Just because he’s not talking, doesn’t mean he’s listening…”
“Oh, hark at you, old married woman. You’re just jealous. I mean, look at those muscles; the way his veins bulge out – that there is a man in peak physical condition. I’d love to run my hands over those biceps!”
“And how were you planning on getting close enough to do that?”
“I have my ways. Don’t give me that look, I do! And speaking of looks, look at those eyes. Such a penetrating gaze.”
“Looks kind of cold, to me. And not just his eyes, actually. Apparently it’s not true, what they say about big feet…”
“Tsk! You are so shallow!”
“Gail?”
“Yes?”
“You know you can never have him, right?”
“I know. But maybe I’ll find my hero for real one day, eh?”
“One that’s not made of marble?”
“Maybe. Oh well. Let’s go and see if they have any postcards of him in the gift shop. Arivaderci, my David!”
