“Wait wait wait. Hang on, don’t move.”
Today, I’m helping out with cleaning around the house; Samantha actually said she needed my help with it. She wants to clean around and underneath all of the furniture we have around the house, so she wants me to move things around while she does her thing. I swear, I’m going to feel sore in the morning after all this.
We’re starting in the living room first, so I have to move the couch and table off of the carpet. I prepare myself by pulling my hair back into a small ponytail and doing a few stretches. As limber and flexible as I am, I can hear a few bones crack and loosen up. I take a deep breath and put my hands on my hip, letting the refreshing feeling run through my body for a minute.
“Man, I needed that,” I say out loud. I move my head around to make some tension in my neck go away; a loud, nasty cracking sound rings through the living room. I laugh a bit at how much sound my body makes as I reach down to get a grip of the bottom of the couch “I swear, I’m like a walking skeleton if I sound like this.”
I stand back up at the sudden outburst and look towards the other end of the couch; Samantha has a disgusted look stuck on her face.
Confused, I ask her, “What’s wrong?”
She points directly at me and wiggles her finger, “You! You cracking all over there! Ms, uh, Ms Skeleton!”
I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms at her statement, a smug look on my face, “Jealous?”
“I have no reason to be jealous about my bones not being able to crack.”
“Uh huh.” I let out a small chuckle and reach for the bottom of the couch again, “Okay, be careful because this is a bit heavy. Lift on three, move on five, and bring it down on eight.”
Readjusting my grip, I start the count; the couch comes up easy and we manage to move it from its spot, putting it down on the sparkling, wood floor underneath the carpet. The entire time, I can hear the cute sound of Samantha struggling. As soon as we put the couch back down, she jumps onto the couch and lays down, starting her chain of complaining.
“Lifting that thing was such a workout! I think I’m done lifting for the rest of the week.”
I lean forward on the arm rest, so I’ve hovering just a bit over Samantha’s face, “It’s only Sunday and you’re already saying that?”
Samantha reaches up and takes off my black-rim glasses as she speaks, “Yup. I know I’m not lifting anymore this week.”
Normally, I get really angry when people try to take my glasses off my face without asking be, but I can let her get away with it. Sam’s blushing face is now a simple blur to me; everything’s pretty blurry now actually. From what I’m able to make out, Samantha puts on the glasses and starts looking around.
“Your eyesight sucks. Everything’s all discombobulated and shifted when I put these on,” she points out. She then sits up and looks directly at me, “Do I look cute with glasses on?”
The obvious answer is ‘Yes’ just to make her happy, but I decided to be realistic, “I can’t tell if you’re cute. I can’t see.”
I can’t tell, but I have a feeling that she has her cheeks puffed up, “Jerk. Just for that, you’re not gonna get these back until I’m done cleaning the carpet.”
I laugh and try to pat her on the head; I pat her shoulder, “Be careful with my glasses.”
“I’m the most careful person in the world.”
Just the other day she managed to somehow trip on nothing and landed face first into the couch. With that in mind, I decide to give her another chance and let her walk around blind with my glasses on her face. Following the thin silhouette of her body, I try to keep an eye on her, watching her keep her hands out in front of her as she tries to walk around the house. She’s making small huffs and puffs under her breath, her voice trembling a bit like she’s afraid of something.
She manages to find her way along one of the walls and into the kitchen. Now, the only thing left is to get some of the cleaning supplies from under the sink so she can get out any stains on the carpet. I crawl over the arm rest of the couch and lay down to pass the time.
Maybe she’s starting to get adjusted to the glasses.
I start to have a bit more faith in Samantha. I think that maybe she’s actually being considerate at the fact that she’s wearing my glasses. She is the caring ty–
Mid-sentence, I can hear somebody’s foot skidding across the floor and then falling flat onto the ground like a big SPLAT.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. All of that faith and hope I had is now escaping my body.
“D-Don’t worry, Alexis! I’m oka– whoops.”
… I’m not even going to ask what happened. With the series of events that just unfolded and the way this girl is, I already know what happened, so I’m just going to say it, “You’re gonna pay for my next pair of glasses.”