When Penn first met Ella, her presence caused him to within seconds divest of all traces of dignity he possessed. He held out his hand like they were potential business partners instead of strangers in the freezer aisle of Aldi and told her that his name was Nathan Cage, that he thought her eyes were pretty, and that he couldn’t die, so he would definitely outlive her and she didn’t have to worry about losing him too early, because she wouldn’t. Ever.
She blinked for a second as if processing what she’d heard, which conveniently gave Penn a chance to realize the extent to which his mouth had just betrayed him.
Oh dear.
He released her hand, finally realizing that he had long since crossed over the threshold of ‘friendly handshake’ into ‘creepy stranger snuggles’ territory. And come on, how cliche was that?
“Uh-” he began.
“I-” she started.
They stared at each other.
“My name is Ella-Grace Wishart, your freckles are adorable, and my entire closet is dedicated as a shrine to the coming apocalypse.”
Penn’s oh-so-brilliant response to that was, “Where do you keep your clothes?”
She replied,“I drape them over the arms of my ceiling fan. You can get a surprising amount of them on there before it looks like it’s going to break.”
From that point they were inseparable.
YOU ARE READING
The Speed of Dark
Humor'When Penn first met Ella, her presence caused him to within seconds divest of all traces of dignity he possessed. He held out his hand like they were potential business partners instead of strangers in the freezer aisle of Aldi and told her that hi...
