She's the kind of person who thinks of insomnia as something that would be useful to have. She talks too quickly, and never chews her food properly. She's economical with her laughter, rationing it out so that she has enough for very serious emergencies, when she has a tendency to giggle with hysteria.
He has napkins for eyes. He has different napkins for different occasions. For day-to-day use, he wears plain napkins from cafes and mid-range restaurants. He draws his eyes on roughly with a biro. He wore a fancy emroidered napkin to his Year 12 Formal, and his eyes were drawn with a calligraphy pen his Dad gave him for his birthday. When he's slumming around the house, or feeling really hungover, he wears McDonald's napkins, but they tear quite easily, and it's very difficult to draw eyes on them, even with a biro.
They met on a rainy day. It seemed to her that he was crying. She averted her eyes, because crying made her nervous. The pitter-patter of the rain followed her all the way to her office, where she was distracted from work by the thought of his napkins. She wondered what it would be like to draw eyes onto his napkins for him. As the grey day wore on she imagined drawing happy eyes, bright and sparkling.
They met on a rainy day. It looked as if he was crying, because the rain made his eyes run. He tried to smile at her as she passed, but she averted her eyes. That made him want to take his napkins off and draw on sad eyes. Instead, he went home and watched the television. But nothing could keep his attention. Instead, he thought about her averted eyes, like little shiny mirrors.
The next day, he went to the supermarket. Wandering up and down the aisles he passed the dog food and the tampons and finally found what he was looking for - the al foil. Although he only needed one sheet he bought a whole roll because that's the way they sell them. Outside the supermarket he drew on the happiest eyes he could think of, and put them on.
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