“Baby, I love your whey,” said Peter F to Miss M.
She looked up from her bowl of cottage cheese. “You can go your own way. You can call it another lonely day.”
He gestured at the desserts piled on her tuffet. “You’re gonna carry that weight a long time.”
“I want to be the girl with the most cake.”
“Why can’t we be friends?” he cried.
“It’s too late, baby, now… it’s too late.” Miss M shook her head.
Peter walked away and muttered, “Guess you’ll have to eat your lunch all by yourself.”
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