Twelfth night

I was taking the Christmas tree down on twelfth night and felt ‘inspired’ (for want of a better word) with the following fictitious exchange:

‘A lovesick banana? ‘ Sue queried. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how such a thing feels.
‘Neither can I,’ Jan sighed.
‘So how can you claim to feel like one?’
‘I don’t know. The words just seemed to fit somehow.’

I thought it might be the opening few lines of a story. But help! Whatever could make someone feel like this and what do they do about it?

About Rosalie Squires

'Who am I?' is a question whose answer keeps evolving, that can be answered in many, many ways; that has no known answer at all. But there are some clues to be found: stocksharpsquires.wordpress.
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3 Responses to Twelfth night

  1. The love that could never be.

  2. Pingback: Lovesick banana | Rosalie Squires

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