On my way back down the stairs, I poked my head into the living room, where Brad was packing up his things. He looked up from his packing, undoubtedly expecting me to say something at least halfway interesting.
Instead: "Blue or purple?"
I held out my hands, indicating the newly-scrubbed nails that, up to a few minutes ago, had been painted royal blue. "Purple," he said, with that bemused, louder-than-words look that said I was being silly, and why in the world was I asking him such a question of a geekboy anyway?
Thirty minutes later, the nails were purple.
Such has been the weekend.
Is it silly of me to say that I 'miss' someone, when for the vast majority of the years we've known each other, we've been nothing more than screen-printed words and occasional phone calls to each other? I think not. I've missed Brad—enough to say it when I know that my saying it publicly will probably make him grimace in embarrassment.
