“Ugh. Why, homework, why?” Jonáš moaned.
I rolled my eyes. Always so dramatic. If he
wasn’t so set on making movies, I would have suggested that he take up acting. “What
do you have to do?”
“I need to find out people’s opinions on
what love is. Like, what the hell? Love just is, there’s nothing else to it.”
“Oh for God’s sake, just ask people.”
Jonáš sighed, “All I’m going to get is
people quoting Haddaway’s ‘What Is Love’.”
“You will not.” I went back to my reading.
“Hey, Marek!” Jonáš screamed, hoping Marek
would hear him in the kitchen.
“What?”
“What is love?”
“OH BABY DON’T HURT ME, DON’T HURT ME, NO
MORE.” Marek responded instantly, followed by a crash, the sound of breaking dishware, and a string of curses. Jonáš
and I both closed our eyes and waited for clarification. “I’m okay, just
knocked over the drying rack . . . and everything that was on it.”
We both nodded, accepting the explanation,
and went back to our original conversation.
“Didn’t I tell you that’s how people would
respond?” Jonáš looked at me, unsure if he should be proud he proved me wrong
or exasperated at his homework assignment.
“You’re just
asking the wrong people. Ask Sophie, I’m sure she’ll have something you can use.
Once Sophie walked
into the apartment, Jonáš pounced. “Sophie - this is for homework - what is
love?”
She smirked. “Naturally,
I’m assuming Marek started singing the song to you?”
Jonáš nodded.
“Love is. . .”
Sophie paused, thinking, “Love is taking me as I am, but leaving me better than
you found me.”
BABY DON'T HURT ME! DON'T HURT ME, NO MORE!
ReplyDeletelol, no ice cream this time - just KitKats :D