Thunder crashed. The morning was gray and gloomy, and rain fell so hard it bounced off the windows.
"What're you going to talk about this morning?" He peered over her shoulder. Then, he scowled. The computer screen was blank. "I think they expect more than that, honey."
Sighing, she put her chin on her hand and stared at the world outside. "I know. But it's so...so...ugh, it's just so foul out there I can't think of anything warm and cozy to talk about. I feel kind of..." Another sigh, bigger than the first. "...gloomy."
A snort. "I gathered. Hey, what about the Cider Mill? We were there just a couple of days ago, remember?"
"How could I forget? It was warm. Sunny. No thunder."
"That's right." He leaned down, put a fast kiss on her temple. "Write about the Mill. I'll go put the coffee on."
His footsteps grew faint on the stairs. She stared out the window. Rain at night was all right, but during the day? It just rubbed her the wrong way. She wanted to cut the lawn, pick beans and prune the roses. How was she supposed to do that when it was raining so hard?
"The Mill," she grumbled, turning her attention to the computer. "Now that was a day. Hot, just the way summer's supposed to be. And all those ducks looking for attention." Smiling, she scrolled through the photo file. "Yeah, everyone's got a story to tell. Even ducks..."
Don't wanna be in any dirty duck movie."
"Me, take me! Aren't I the prettiest one here?"
"Uh, sorry. No, you're not the prettiest.
That would be me, because I've got these little brown squiggly spots.
Hate to break it to you, but you don't have any spots.
Just white fluffy feathers.
What's the big deal in that? Huh?"
"But can you do this? Hmm?"
"Hey! Who're you calling a birdbrain?"
"Yeah, yeah...birdbrain this."