Cindy Lou Comes Cleaner

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, in the towel again, and light makeup. I had no idea where she got the makeup—but compared to the fact that she was capable of turning into a blob of bacteria and spending weeks inside my gut, it seemed like a minor mystery.

“So,” I said.

“Well, this came as a surprise,” she said. “I hadn’t expected to see you for another month.” It looked like she’d composed herself in the shower. I decided to pretend I didn’t notice.

“So, why me?”


“What’s so special about me that you don’t want to find somebody else?”

“I don’t know what you—”

“You want back in? Truth, please.”

She sighed, looked down, and mumbled something.


“I said, I’ve had a crush on you since high school.”

I blinked. “I don’t remember you—”

“Mousy little girl, freshman when you were a senior?”

I blinked. “Wait…that was you? With the purple notebook?”

She nodded.

I said the first thing that came into my head. “You sure have changed.”

She snorted. “Gee, ya think?”

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