Word count 176


I don’t care what my friends say about Jean being way out of my class.  Sure, I may be a looks 4 and she is a 9, but if I round up, I’m a 5.  And yes, she got her Ph.D. in Mesopotamian culture and I got my associate degree in motorcycle mechanics. 

Regardless of the naysayers, we have been tight, and it has nothing to do with what I said about the lottery.  She may have somehow gotten the idea that I said that I won the lottery, when I believe that I said I will win the lottery.

I may have been a bit dishonest about wearing earplugs to the opera and closing my eyes at the French movie we went to, but I was sincere about my love of and expertise about fine wines.  Why oh, why did she throw the box of Thunderbird Ripple at me when I invited her to my place for dinner?

She will probably have a reasonable explanation for me when I get out of the hospital.

One of a few stories written on request. Sam Kanej wanted a story with wine in it for Short Tales. I expect that I try to place an expanded version other places.

4 thoughts on “Optimism

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