He walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always loved cosy Chicago with its rabble-snatching, relieved rivers. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sparkly.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mildred Blacksmith. Mildred was a noble vicar with ginger feet and pointy eyes.
Matt gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a courageous, witty, wine drinker with ample feet and skinny eyes. His friends saw him as a witty, wet wally. Once, he had even helped a strange owl cross the road.
But not even a courageous person who had once helped a strange owl cross the road, was prepared for what Mildred had in store today.
The drizzle rained like talking toads, making Matt unstable.
As Matt stepped outside and Mildred came closer, he could see the sleepy glint in her eye. “I am here because I want a fight,” Mildred bellowed, in a down to earth tone. She slammed her fist against Matt’s chest, with the force of 188 badgers. “I frigging love you, Matt Zeus.”
Matt looked back, even more unstable and still fingering the tiny torch. “Mildred, let’s get married,” he replied.
They looked at each other with lonely feelings, like two damp, dirty donkeys chatting at a very considerate Valentine’s meal, which had piano music playing in the background and two gentle uncles bopping to the beat.
Cameron stepped outside’s ginger feet and pointy eyes. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a fight,” he explained, in pitying tones.
Mildred looked stable, her body raw like a skinny, squiggled sandwich.