Bond of Union, 1956, by M. C. Escher
"So, what do you think of him? Isn't he so hot?"
"I thought it was a little chilly in the café. But you're right, he didn't seem bothered by it."
"I could stare into his eyes for hours. I love the shape of his earlobes, and isn't his little beard so cute?"
"His face is sort of appealing, but . . ."
"Something about him seems, well, only skin-deep, you know?"
"What do you mean?"
"His comments weren't very substantial. And he seemed pretty thin-skinned."
"He can't take a joke."
"Um, when did you make a joke?"
"You know, when I teased him about his clear nasal passages?"
"You were teasing?"
"The speed at which my words went in one of his ears and out the other indicated a certain lack of interference in between."
"You saw your words come out of his ear?"
"Uh, yeah. I can see thoughts, too, you know. And every time a thought bubble began to form over his head, it burst before anything coagulated inside."
"Whatever. You're weird. But he's dreamy. I just want to wrap myself around him and never let him go."
"Even if he's an airhead?"
"I think he's perfect."
Sigh. "I guess he is, then. Perfect for you."
For Magpie Tales