This story is from 12 Nights of Christmas, available here and here in your choice of e-formats for the bargain price of 99 cents. Whatever happened to the "cents" sign on a keyboard? Was it never on a computer keyboard or was it lost in the transition from typewriters to computers? I miss the cents sign.
Four Birds Calling
Reg could see the
two birds out of the corner of his eye. They were looking at him and giggling,
being none too subtle about it.
He knew what they
were thinking.
Is it him?
Could it be?
The resemblance
really was quite striking. He had the same blond mop-top, the same bedroom
eyes, the same succulent lower lip.
He even styled his
wardrobe after Thomas, the photographer his doppelganger had played in Blow-Up. The white pants and powder-blue
shirt rolled up to the elbows. It was a good look for him.
The shirt matched
his eyes.
And eyes are the
windows of the soul.
Reg never looked
birds in the eye though; he always focused on their lips. Eventually they’d
notice and ask, “What?”
He’d always say,
“You have the most beautiful lips.”
It worked a treat,
that line.
Is it him?
Could it be?
He glanced over at
the girls and flashed his second-best smile at them, which was enough to make
the fat one blush but the spotty one looked back at him boldly and licked her
lips while making intense eye contact.
Well hello, Reg thought.
