"If all the world's a stage, then that means people see us when we have sex. I find this rather frightening." I started laughing the moment that came out of my mouth. And considering the rampant sex around Shakespeare's time... how could he even come up with such a thing?

"You are so immature." I grinned at the speaker. "No, it's brilliance. You see, that's how Santa Claus works. He sits the audience so he sees you when you're sleeping, and knows when you're awake." She turned to me. "And I suppose that he also watches people when they have sex?"

I met this one head on. "Well that's the next line: he knows if you've been bad or good. But by 'bad', they of course mean 'naughty'." "Ugh," she rolled her eyes. I laughed. "He's an old man. Do you honestly think that he's satisfied with potting plants?"

"Oh my God." She turned back to her lunch. I smiled, and went back to poking at mine. Poking.... A mischievous light danced in my eyes. I put down my fork, raised my finger, and deftly poked her in the cheek. My victory, however, was short lived, for a moment later her finger jabbed me in the stomach.

I coughed and spluttered about for a bit and noted the smile on her face. I gave one of my most serious glares and said "I am going to get you. One of these days." She simply picked up her tray and placed it on the conveyor belt. I sighed, and placed mine next to hers as they were whisked into the kitchen.

That little smile was a beginning to become a bit irritating. I got the door and stepped outside with her. Sunlight illuminated the landscape. And of course, it heated it too. Ah, well, summer as typical as it could be. She and I walked that paved path.

"Man, I don't know why they do themed dances. It just complicates things and makes everything a bit sillier." She looked at me. "Well, you'd blend in perfectly, wouldn't you?" I let my shoulders slump. "Oh, come now. Surely you don't think I'm that"

"Perfectly like Mickey Mouse in fact." She chuckled. "So what about the dance?" I looked up bemusedly "Well, I was thinking..." Perfect timing. My stomach was twisting itself up. My face was also heating up. "That maybe..."

The bell rang. "Hey, look, tell me later, 'kay?" I kicked the pavement. I hate it when that happens. It's just not fair that it should be so difficult. I slung my back over one shoulder and set out to Bolton Hall.

I sat by the window of the dorm. It was a bit later that day. In fact, it was about five. The bluish drapery of

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

---

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Finding love?
We want to hear your view. Write now!