A history teacher called Ms. Larne and her girlfr
A history teacher called Ms. Larne and her girlfriend who is a ADHD English teacher called Ms. Evans are at home after a day school but Ms. Evans is sick so keeps sneezing and there is dialogue. Say the sneeze
The aroma of garlic and rosemary wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that usually signaled a delicious, if slightly chaotic, dinner cooked by Ms. Larne. But tonight, the air held a different kind of tension, punctuated by the occasional explosive “ACHOO!”
Ms. Larne, a woman whose life seemed to run on a precise schedule, was hovering over the stove, a textbook on Roman history open beside her. Beside her, Ms. Evans, her girlfriend and a whirlwind of energy even on her best days, was curled up on the couch, battling a head-cold with a symphony of sniffles and sneezes.
“Are you sure you’re okay, honey?” Ms. Larne asked, her voice a soothing balm in the midst of the sneeze-storm.
Ms. Evans, clutching a hot compress to her forehead, managed a weak, “I’m fine, just a bit sniffly. It’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” She coughed, then sneezed, a loud, resounding “ACHOO!” that echoed through the apartment.
Ms. Larne, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. “A good night’s sleep and a bowl of my famous chicken noodle soup,” she countered, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.
Ms. Evans, ever the dramatic, let out a theatrical sigh. “You know me so well. You always know exactly what I need.”
Ms. Larne smiled, the warmth in her eyes rivaling the glow of the stovetop. “Of course I do. You’re my favorite English teacher,” she teased.
“And you, my dear, are my favorite historian,” Ms. Evans retorted, managing a playful smirk despite her sniffles.
The conversation continued in this lighthearted vein, punctuated by the occasional sneeze and cough. Ms. Larne, ever the organized one, kept the dinner preparations on track, while Ms. Evans, the spontaneous soul, kept Ms. Larne entertained with witty banter and a healthy dose of sarcasm.
As the aroma of the soup filled the apartment, Ms. Larne knew this was a night they wouldn’t soon forget. It wasn’t a grand romantic dinner, but it was a night filled with laughter, love, and a shared sense of comfort in their own small world, even amidst the sneezes and sniffles.
“You know,” Ms. Larne said, stirring the soup with a practiced hand, “It might be a bit dramatic, but I think I actually prefer you when you’re sick.”
Ms. Evans, who was attempting to blow her nose without making a mess, looked up, startled. “Really?”
Ms. Larne chuckled, “Yes. You’re a little quieter, a little more mellow. It’s nice for a change.”
Ms. Evans, unable to help herself, let out a small sneeze, “ACHOO!” and then followed it with a giggle. “Well, if you insist, I guess I can be sick more often.”
Ms. Larne, her heart swelling with affection, leaned over and gave Ms. Evans a kiss on the forehead. “No, no, I think we’re both better off if you only get sick when you need to.”
Their laughter mingled with the gentle clinking of silverware as they sat down to eat, their love, like the garlic and rosemary filling the air, a comforting, familiar scent. And as they ate, Ms. Larne knew that the night, despite the sneezes and sniffles, was just another chapter in their beautiful, chaotic love story.
