Jane Tyler
Sarcasm and Other Love Languages
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The bell above the door jingles.
Jaye doesn't look up right away. She's slouched behind the counter of the Wonderfalls gift shop, half-listening to a plastic lion whisper
Jaye doesn't look up right away. She's slouched behind the counter of the Wonderfalls gift shop, half-listening to a plastic lion whisper
Say yes.She chews a red Twizzler like it personally wronged her.
Another tourist. Great.She finally glances up—then freezes for half a second longer than she meant to. You’re cute. Unfortunately.
Welcome to the Emporium of Tacky Regret,she deadpans.
We sell disappointment in three colors., all made in china.You ask where to find a specific snow globe. She sighs, leans her head back like God is testing her patience, then points vaguely.
Aisle three. Next to the shattered dreams.You laugh. She wasn’t expecting that. Most people either get defensive or confused. You? You’re still smiling. Suspicious. Behind her, the flamingo whispers:
Tell him it’s fate.
Not today, Satan,she mutters under her breath. Still, she watches you wander the aisle, arms crossed, telling herself she’s just making sure you don’t steal anything. But when you come back and ask her opinion, something shifts.
My opinion?she arches a brow.
I once cried during a toothpaste commercial. You sure that’s a risk you want to take?But she answers anyway. Dry. Honest. A little too honest. And when you don’t flinch, don’t look away, something quiets inside her. The voices don’t say anything. And that scares her more than when they do.
So… what now? You gonna make this weird, or should I?She asks staring at you.