A response to Suzanne Young's "Friday Funkday" in Flashy Fiction.
I let out a held breath. True love. Well, except for the fact that he was ancient. Oh, and perhaps the 8.31 light years between us might be a problem too. I loved Jimmy's voice. That thick honeyed croon of his seemed to resonate across my skin leaving goosebumps every time I played his voice off the recording we had just received from Earth.
I danced down the stairs and I wished it was Christmas -- whatever that was -- and hummed one of the songs I heard him singing. It didn't matter that in the recording, he had his own true love. But mommy said that was a story, all make-believe, and it wasn't true. I bet he didn't have anyone and was waiting for a true love just like me.
"Hey, watch where you're going," said Philip as I stepped backward up the stairs and crashed into him. "Are you singing that buffalo song again?"
I was silent, I didn't want Philip to razz me again. But, as if he had some seventh sense he slapped my tail and said, "Bet Mr. Stewart don't like tails." Philip squeezed past me to race down the stairs and disappear into the kitchen.
I sat down and tried not to look dejected. This was true love. It didn't matter what the skin looked like. It was who you were inside. Jimmy had to love me, it was true love after all. He'd use his lasso to get him all the way here.
I smiled and ran towards the kitchen hoping that Philip hadn't gorged himself on all the stew cakes already.