mainly for self-amusement. most of my inside jokes are just with myself. oh well.
he'd been with her all day and now she was leaving, which was okay because although he enjoyed her company, he had found himself in that horribly uncomfortable dilemma of having thought of a joke that he desperately wanted to work into conversation, but which was not by any means worth the effort and gratuitous topic-steering that it would require. so that while they laughed with and smiled at one another, and were just witty and suggestive enough to keep things interesting, he couldn't help but feel a little frustrated. he watched her cross the street against the light, lilting around bumpers somewhat haphazardly, and just as she dissapeared behind the sandwich board alliteratively advertising the disguises on display in the costume shop window, he was struck with a sudden fear for her physical safety. without really knowing why, he dashed ironically into the street (which is difficult to pull off without commas), not stopping until he'd caught up with her, completely out of breath and lacking a good explanation. but after a few seconds of uncomfortable panting confusion, he realized that this was his opportunity, or at least the best he'd get. 'they say cats have nine lives, but mine got run over, and i haven't seen it since.' she looked at him quizzically. 'so be careful, won't you?' she nodded, and gave him a half smile that suggested that she wasn't sure if amusement was appropriate. 'bye.' he grinned. there's a satisfaction that comes with killing two predatory birds with one stone, and he was basking in it.