Reads: 212

She walked upstairs to shower. The autowash in her room was beautiful. Nine hundred sprayers per square inch, sixteen hundred retractable massage heads, a twelve-foot tunnel for hair, and every possible soap, scent, and oil. It even had a deep-soak feature, where the body chamber would fill with hot water and float her like a cork. The autowash was, possibly, the only bright side to exercise.

Aerope was just getting ready to undress when she got a call. The housephone screen in the wall lit up and sang, “Call from--Dexios. Call from--Dexios. Call from--Dexios. Call from--Dexios.”

“Accept,” she called.

His face popped up on the screen.

“Hey Aerope!” he said. “...Aerope?”

“I’m in the other room.”

“Can you come here?”

“I was just about to get in the auto.”

“Do you want me to call back later?”

“No.”

“So....can you come here?”

She walked into view of the camera. He grinned.

“Hi there.”

“Hi, Dex.” She smiled back, tired as she was. She always managed to smile for him.

“How was exercise?”

“Fine. Please don’t give me a hard time about it.”

“Oh, I never do.”

She laughed sarcastically. “Well that’s not a lie.”

“C’mon, name one time I’ve harrassed you about keeping your cardiovascular, respitory, nervous, and limbic systems in good health.”

“How about the last time we met up.”

“Nooo, that was chiding you for being obsessed with what stupid, unimportant people think of you.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” It made her nervous when he talked like that. Who knew what was listening in?

“Sure. I wanna meet you for lunch. Is that okay?”

“No, Dexios. No it is not. I am not having you over at my house--”

“That’s not what I said. I said, ‘Let’s meet for lunch.’ As in a real restaurant.”

“Do...you have one already picked out?”

He grinned charmingly. “Don’t I always?”

Yes. Yes he did.

“Ok, fine,” she said. “Where’s the place?”

“We’ll meet up at my shop.”

“Can we just meet up there?”

“We’ll meet up at my shop,” he repeated.

What if people see us? she wanted to ask. But she didn’t.

“How’s twelve?” the man in the phone said.

“Fine.”

“Great.” He grinned again. “Bye, Aerope.”

His face vanished, and the phone returned to the home screen.

“Call ended,” the device said.

“Thank you, Obvious,” she told it. Then she peeled off her exercise clothes, sent them down the laundry chute, and climbed in the autowash.
 


Submitted: February 16, 2013

© Copyright 2022 Iskah E Shirah. All rights reserved.

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