Rob chews on a fingernail and shrugs. "So the critique isn't so hot?"
I shrug. "The heroine is a wimp and too stupid to live." Course I knew that, but I did not mention snow.
"Well," says Rob, "good thing you didn't quit your day job.
I give him the stinkeye and stomp to the fridge. "Want ice cream?"
"No thanks," he says without dragging his eyes from the TV, "go right ahead."
The muscle below my left eye ticks as I cram the spoon into the last carton of Cherry Garcia. I need a new career, I need another carton of ice cream, I need a new ...
"What?" Rob widens his eyes.
I sigh and set down the carton. "When you say, 'go right ahead', what I hear is, 'go right ahead you fat pig.'"
Laughing, he pulls me into a hug I do not want. I jab him with the spoon. He oinks and I can't help it, I start to laugh. Maybe I need to read that critique again.
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