Do you?

What're adjectives but smart sounding nouns ending with 'y'!

"Wintery mornings give a summery feel when sprinkled with gingery thoughts?" She sat there wondering how lives wouldve changed had English been such a simple code to crack. And how would he know? He'd never asked her out. He had never tried anything romantic with words. The only time he'd expressed anything was disbelief when someone asked them about "each other". She had had to sadly laugh it off as he wiped off his smile with serious doubts. Too many oxymorons in one line of a thought. That almost sounded profane! Sigh!

"Why not?" she asked. "Look, its quite impossible to construct what I said, the way I said it, in words other than the ones I used...right?" she justified. "And its important to say things, how ever you say things, you should SAY things."

"Hmmm" his droopy eyes opened lazily to look at hers. "If you insist!"

"I think thought and feel are lesser valued objects today. Too much focus on English grammar. Such a sad world." She was annoyed. "Yeah, I'm kinda annoyed" she confirmed aloud. He wasn't saying anything and that was testing her patience and wit. One year is a long-ish time frame. "Long-ish should be a word."

"What's gotten into you?" he frowned. "And in any case how's this conversation relevant to the mood of the day?" He stroked her cheeks with the back of his fingers. "The intended mood of today." He bent forward towards her.

No more silencing. She sat back. "I dono!" she sighed. 

"Single-hood - thats a thought-feel word - isnt it?" he winked.  

She was whining. Not aloud. "Think I'll go home now, not that you've entertained me ever, to stay back. But well, its not like you're my boyfriend, so let it be!"

He smiled, almost swallowing the laughter that he couldnt let out of himself. Just like words that saw themselves stuck in his diaphragm. Simple words, tough ones, heart wrenching ones, words like sounds that echoed his gut - all stuck - when she was around. Deep breathing helped, crackling his fingers helped, swallowing blobs of saliva helped. But they helped in silencing those incessantly pounding heartbeats. All the time!

He cleared his throat. "Miss tinkering thought," he whispered, "187 coffees...188th," he held his glass high. "we're dating right?"

She smiled a wink-ish smile. "Wintery mornings with strong-ish coffees," she wrote "and one confused right-ish line!" She closed her thought-book.