Aaaw. What a girl. What the heck is she hugging? Her macbook? What a smart girl. Inanimate objects offer such steady love. It’s all projection, you know, like the sun and the moon. One glows and one reflects. Girls glow and their stuff reflects.
Boys glow too, of course, but most would not be caught alive and living in toast mitts. A toast muff, I’m thinking, would be swell for clandestine hand holding, hold the butter.
Toast muff. Think of that.
The Lunch Encounter 