Here she comes.
Hair’s a mess of golden caramel goodness yet you won’t look at me. Fine. I don’t want to look at you either. You never have been good at taking a compliment.
“Leave me alone, I’m half asleep.”
Me too but you don’t see me complaining.
Don’t give me that look; you don’t. Now, pop a blob of that minty gooey stuff on that rotary round brush thing and stick it in your gob! A bright smile is a beautiful smile.
Oh God no, please don’t start singing that song in your head again. You sing that dreaded song everyday.
There’s that look again. You know, one day you’ll stick like that.
She spits the goo out (ew) and lifts her head. She’s looking at me smiling.
What are you smiling for?
“Because you are, Pingu!”