Jordan hit Brian with another pillow. This one hurt, catching him in the face at close range. He grabbed it, snatching it and the others off the couch, throwing them to the other side of the room.
“Enough! Death by stuffing is off the table as of now. Do you know how demeaning that is?” Angry and humiliated, he could feel his ears burning.
“Hurts your male pride?” Sarcasm layered her words.
“A little, yeah. I’d almost rather get punched.” He held up his hands to fend her off as she tried to hit him. “I said almost. What’s with the anger and violence? This isn’t like you. Are you mad at me?”
“What about? We defeated evil again, in case you’ve forgotten. It’s been blissfully uneventful for months.”
“That’s what worries me. It’s too quiet. Like the calm before the storm. It’s like icy fingers up and down my back.”
© 2019 Dellani Oakes