“You have no idea how many cans he’s eaten this month.”
I looked up and met a pair of deep, intense eyes.
Michael stood there, looking frail while leaning against the wall.
His eyes were red, clearly from crying.
He was the picture of a delicate, helpless beauty.
He looked beautiful, but I was still wearing the catfish mask!
I stood there awkwardly, my toes curling in embarrassment.
I had timed it perfectly; Michael shouldn’t have been home!
The whiskers on my mask trembled slightly from the awkwardness.
One man and one catfish locked in a deep gaze; the scene was unbearably awkward.
I said, "Sorry to bother you. It’s the wrong address."
Michael opened his mouth but just stared at me, the catfish, in resentment.
After a moment, he said, “Gwen, don’t leave. I know it’s you.”
