Purple Fingers - Chapter One

She examined the plate as if I had just given her a scoop of glob. She sniffed it. She stared at it. She listened to it.
'Kot, would you just eat it already?'
'I'm a little afraid. You usually don't cook very well.'
'Well, I apologize for being bad at cooking. Please, Kot, just try it.'
She did. I watched her face. She chewed for an eternity. 'This is pretty good, Kaspars.'
'So I can make pasta now?'
'You can make pasta now.'
'J?!'
Kot began to laugh at me dancing around in the kitchen like the idiot that I am.
'I can cook something other than poison!'
'And you're getting better at your English. That's good.'
'So are you. I can understand what people say online now. That speak English, that is.'
'My little Kaspars is growing up.'
'You sound like my Mother.'
'Ew. Me like your Mother? She's the Mayor of the colour pink.'
'Yeah, I know. You know what else I can make?'
'What?'
'Popcorn! Want to watch a movie?'
'J?. What do you want to watch?'
'Anything. I don't care.'
'I don't care either.'
'We'd die before we'd agree on anything.'
Kot started laughing. She was done with the pasta I made and put it in the sink. She got up on her tip-toes although she only reached my shoulder. She kissed my collarbone. 'Es tevi milu.'
'I love you too, shortie.'
'Have you ever considered that maybe you're just tall?'
'N?.'
'I'm going to go take a shower real quick.'
'Hmm.'
'Oh hush! Pick out a movie, won't you?'1

Kot came out fifteen minutes later. Her hair was damp and curly, grown out all the way down to her chin. It was black, and although it was natural, it had no shade of blue. Her skin was a milky white, like a porcelin doll in one of those antique shoppes. Her skin was soft, too. I don't know what she did with it, but it was so nice.
Her breasts were large, round. Her figure was slim, but short. She had legs like a dancer, with strong muscles. She was an angel.
'What movie did you decide on?'
'Your favourite.'
'Harry Potter, year four!'
'J?.'
'I love you!'
'I know.'
'Well aren't you arrogant?' Kot grabbed a large blanket that she had made herself with yarn and knitting needles.
'J?.'
'You fool. I was talking to Harry.'
'Whatever. You lie.'
'Yes, I do. I have two loves.'
I then began laughing so hard that I fell on the floor and was rolling around in my laughter. That's what she told me when we first met.2


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