You were texting at the dinner table and Simon didn’t know how to get your attention. He tried everything. He even said he’d let you wax his chest but nothing worked.

His cat ears pinned down to his head as he narrowed his eyes. Simon targeted his attention to your glass cup.

“Love.” He called, no response.

His irritation reached its peek.

Simon slides the glass off the table. It shattered, shards exploding.

“Love, are we going to the city tomorrow?” He asked, tilting his head innocently.