YoYo Hadn’t Actually Brought Along Any Whipped Cream
still stiff and salt-stained- “Or someone did, anyway.”
- swaying and bumping in the unclean air
- an act of obscure sentimentality
- His vague smile
Tune in next time part 432 Click Here for Earlier Installments
YoYo hadn’t actually brought along any whipped cream, but she did find inventive ways to use the chair. That it took longer than ten minutes didn’t bother me, or her.
Afterwards I was hesitant to don my uniform, because it was still stiff and salt-stained from my journey to Disco Island. But the fabrics were clean, supple and pressed. “You washed my uniform,” I said, but YoYo looked nervously puzzled. “Or someone did, anyway.”
She shrugged and went over to the window to watch the blizzard, hugging herself. “My jeans are too tight, I will not put them back on.” She stood naked, swaying and bumping in the unclean air.
“Where’s that smoke coming from?” I asked. YoYo shrugged some more, and then a deep voice from across the dim room said, “My cigar. Sorry, I’ll put it out.”
YoYo yelped and grabbed a blanket from my bed to cover herself as we both turned to find the person who’d spoken. The shadows at that end of the room made it all but impossible to discern the figure who leaned against the wall, and the lingering cigar smoke didn’t help.
“Heh,” came the stranger’s raspy laugh. “Sending you to this outpost was nothing but an act of obscure sentimentality on your wife’s part. But now, to call you away so suddenly. Doesn’t it make you wonder what she doesn’t want you to see?”
“Identify yourself,” I demanded. “You are speaking to a general of the Contrarian Mountain Garrisons, and you will show proper respect.”
The man leaned forward, out of the murky corner. His vague smile told me that he knew I didn’t recognize him, but the tattoo on his cheek told me who he was all the same.
bonus points for using them in order