Number 23

I was bored a while ago (Not, that I haven’t been bored since then). And a friend was nagging me about which movie we were going to see. As annoying as she is, she can be quite inspiring. So here it goes.

“Please, just tell me, what you want.” he begged her and sighed. It was a deep, loud sigh. One that told her to get a move on, I’m hungry. She stared at the menu and said: “Fine. I’ll take number 23.” “Great.” he shouted triumphantly. “I’ll ring up.” He left her sitting on the sofa to get the phone. Why was he always so impatient? What if she didn’t want number 23 after all? What if she wanted to eat something more spicy, like number 45. Did she want number 45? No, she didn’t. Or did she? She blinked. She was having number 23 and that was that! And maybe she could grab some of his chicken tandoori. Or not.


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