If I Could Talk to My Face Mask

This is how I imagine it would go. . . .

Me: I’m going out again.

Fran: About time. I need some air. You’ve left me sitting here all day!

Me: Girl, I was working! Now, it’s time for you to work, so let’s go.

Fran: Sure, you only pick me up when you need me. I feel used. It’s fine, but it hurts, you know.

Me: No offense, Fran, but I like to breathe freely when I’m in the comfort of my own home. You know I love you though, right? You make me feel safe in those stretchy arms of yours. And never forget-you take my breath away.

Fran: Aw, thanks. Happy to be of service.

Me: Okay, let’s go, yeah? It’s nice out.

Fran: Cool, yeah. Nice nails! Finally cut them, huh? Climber thing, I know. Oh . . . the sunglasses are coming too? Great.

Me: What’s wrong with them?

Fran: Umm only that they’re the shadiest thing ever! You can’t hear the deals they’re making on the street. It’s an object telepathy thing. Just be careful.

Me: What does that even mean?

Fran: I don’t know! Just keep an eye out. Literally, if you can.

Me: Whatever. Okay, on you go.