Rebekah, a friend of the family, had stayed over. Whit was kind enough to give up his bed to her for the duration.
One morning Whit came down to breakfast with a question:
“Rebekah, why do you have a microphone in my bed?”
Rebekah, a friend of the family, had stayed over. Whit was kind enough to give up his bed to her for the duration.
One morning Whit came down to breakfast with a question:
“Rebekah, why do you have a microphone in my bed?”
I could fill pages with Whit’s musings. I’ll start with a short one:
His mom and I were canoodling in the kitchen. Making small talk, being a bit juicy, I suppose. Whit walks by and says,
“Will you two please stop talking earnestly? It’s making me uncomfortable.”