Open Arms

Allison and I were lying on the living room couches talking. Or maybe we were sitting at the kitchen table talking. Or sprawled on the upstairs couch talking. Whatever. We spent most of this week talking, and that’s what we were doing when her husband, J, shouted in from the other room. “Honey, why’s our Wii blinking blue?”

“If it’s our alien overlords making first contact,” Allison shouted back, “then I for one will greet them with open arms.”

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