2
“You look tired,” John mentioned to me the next day.
We were at his house in the study going over the day’s work, including the daily snail mail and email. “It’s just this work. I think it prematurely ages people,” I joked.
“I think you’ll stay young forever,” he softly commented.
“Sweet talk will not get any of this done, but flattery with a cookie might get you a kiss,” I suggested with a smile.
He shot up out of his chair so quickly I thought he would hit the ceiling before he came back down. “Just a cookie?” he asked me.
I rolled my eyes; this guy was incorrigible. “Hold on there, Chef Boyardee. Before you start cooking up a batch of the largest cookies in the world we need to get through some of this stuff.” I glanced at the papers in my hands; that was the day’s snail m
