"Tickling the ivories?" I asked.
"They kind of hurt--not that it would make any difference to you," Myx said.
"Do you really believe your comfort and safety mean nothing to me?"
"Comfort--no ... safety, sure because ...?"
I knew Myx wanted me to finish his sentence just to point out what his value and worth were to me. He often went out of his way to "teach" me lessons.
"Because you're my only copy, and without you this blog would consist of me talking to myself and just photographing inanimate objects," I said with just the right amount of passion and heartfelt sincerity to fool even Myx.
"You are soooo full of it! Plus, isn't it kind of chilling that you made that statement to a book?"
"Let's not get into my mental health again. You know it sends me--"
"Hey, this is a great piano!"
Myx always knew when to interrupt.
"Keys are a big part of MIRACLE MYX. You use your synesthesia to--"
"Maybe we shouldn't say too much about that. You know I blush easily," Myx said. That was twice he interrupted me; just about average for him.
"Does you cover change shades when you blush?"
Miracle Myx
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