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Cupid has been using arrows implanted with laughter bombs, a pinch of madness and confusion, a jealousy-filled mixture that could burn you, a bowl of boring sessions to attend in school, showers of love, and a tightly closed microscopic j...
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CUPID'S POV
"Cupid, we just got our assignments. Put on some pants. Now!"
Imagine being bossed around by a six-foot maniac who thinks my lower-half fashion choices are the latest global crisis.
"Do we need wine?" I ask her, but my question just hung in the air like a failed peace offering.
Everyone in the city can hear the clicking of her hot pink Mary Jane platform heels across my rose-tinted floor. Judging by the enthusiasm she walked on them, I can imagine that she had gotten her hands on them quite recently.
Her 79th pair of heels.
The room had the strongest odour of coconut and cocoa butter. Amoria must have bathed in the ethereal aroma before visiting my room.
Or maybe it's just me and my cool personality blessing my own surroundings, therefore radiating the fragrance.
I should really stop talking to myself.
"No, I need wine, sir. You need to put your pants back on."
Amoria is usually right about most things in general, but not today. I think my legs look absolutely fabulous and I feel liberated. She is my best friend and my left-hand person. I'd say she is my right hand man but that isn't my dominant hand, so it does not make sense to me.
"But life is so freeing without them," I remind her. Surely a woman would love to wear a lose gown than go to bed with tight jeans and a bra?
She looked at me like I was a peculiar creature she had encountered on her evening walk. "Pants On. Now." How can she not understand my point?
PaNtS oN nOw.
I don't like being dead. It's not cool. Did I mention I was dead earlier? My apologies, I get distracted a lot. I am dead. You have to keep reading if you need answers.
I do not like the idea of doing anything at the moment either. I just want to sit on this chair and think about why I keep having anxiety levels like I am being hunted for sport.
"Cupid, you better hurry!"
There she goes running in my carmine-glittered shirt, trying to fix her hair and making stupid faces at me. My usual day.
As I was in the process of massaging my temples, I let out a puff of baby-pink breath as I exhaled, hoping she could see I was really tired.
Even though I did absolutely nothing other than take a nap for eleven hours.
"Whose love life have I been assigned to anyway?"
She floated seductively in the air with her majestic scarlet wings. She arched her back like a creature with no bones and gave me a sly look. Her life might not be perfect but her eyeliner is.
