No I do not want to look at your condo rental in Santa Monica

Not your baby cousin either.

“Mmm”

Not your begonia or any of its friends, the trifle you made, shoes exactly like our server has – I’m taking your word for it.

“Cheers!”

Yesterday’s sunset, your brother’s car, the full moon.

“It doesn’t do justice to it does it? It’s always bigger than the picture shows.”

I haven’t seen you in a while. Put down your device. Look at me. I’m talking to you.

“Did you finish the eagle sculpture you were working on?”

Ah, yes. There it is. Well, it is really grand.

“How is your mother?”

Of course, a picture is worth a thousand words.

“I’m taking my glasses off.”

I’m opening the case and dropping them in. There. And now, into the purse…

“It looks like a toxic dump. Oh, it’s the modern painting in your living room. Yes, I can kind of make that out, now that you mention it.” [squinting]

“No glasses…” [gesturing to eye area]

“Certainly. I have them.”

“No. Not going to. Talk to me.”

Yes, I’ve heard of YouTube.”

Check!

 

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