He stepped towards me, smiling.
And I didn’t realise what was happening until it was too late.
His actual Wolverine hands rested on my actual human shoulders. His actual eyes (sparkly, clear) looked at mine (grey, non-descript), and then in happened.
He leaned in and his actual lips hit my actual cheek.
Did I graciously accept the peck, laugh delicately and silently thank myself for daubing the Chanel No 5 behind my earlobes before leaving the house that morning?
No. NO. NOT EVEN CLOSE.
I was wearing a pirate hat. I had a plastic hook for hand. My mouth gaped open like a trout, I couldn’t remember if I’d even applied deodorant and I wished, SO badly, that I had washed my hair that morning. Or the one before.