A pan of chicken
We’re laying in bed one morning. I stroke his back with one hand and my fingertips. I think it must feel nice. He gets goosebumps. I try to say that in French. “Oooh–les poils du poulet.” With my Canadian accent, it comes out: “Oohh–la poêle du poulet.” Oh…a pan of chicken. How romantic. Snort.