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The Couch Couple Chronicles
#WritcoStoryPrompt53
Seeing a couple on television and suddenly it struck my mind... Oh shoot am I not facing similar problem? Or may be little more to this!
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Last night, there I was, slouched on my couch, munching on a packet of chips, and mindlessly flipping through TV channels. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a dramatic soap opera. The scene? A couple having one of *those* arguments. You know the type—complete with over-the-top finger-pointing and dramatic pauses, as if every word had been scripted by Shakespeare himself.
I laughed. "People are so dramatic on TV," I muttered between chip crunches.
But then—BOOM—it hit me like a ton of bricks. Wait a minute. Wasn’t this eerily similar to what happened between me and my roommate the other day? Okay, so it wasn’t a romantic spat, but wasn’t my meltdown over the missing peanut butter just as theatrical? And didn’t I also pause dramatically before yelling, "You don’t *respect* my snacks!"
Cue the existential crisis.
The TV couple eventually reconciled with heartfelt apologies, a tearful hug, and a cheesy soundtrack swelling in the background. I scoffed. "Real life isn’t this easy!" But deep down, I knew—*I* was the drama.
So, I decided to do something about it. I marched over to my roommate (still sulking over the peanut butter debacle) and announced, “Listen, we’ve got to talk. I realize I may have been... *extra* about the whole sandwich thing.” My roommate blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. You threw a spoon at me.”
Oops. Forgot about that part.
We laughed it off, and I realized...
Seeing a couple on television and suddenly it struck my mind... Oh shoot am I not facing similar problem? Or may be little more to this!
.
.
.
Last night, there I was, slouched on my couch, munching on a packet of chips, and mindlessly flipping through TV channels. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a dramatic soap opera. The scene? A couple having one of *those* arguments. You know the type—complete with over-the-top finger-pointing and dramatic pauses, as if every word had been scripted by Shakespeare himself.
I laughed. "People are so dramatic on TV," I muttered between chip crunches.
But then—BOOM—it hit me like a ton of bricks. Wait a minute. Wasn’t this eerily similar to what happened between me and my roommate the other day? Okay, so it wasn’t a romantic spat, but wasn’t my meltdown over the missing peanut butter just as theatrical? And didn’t I also pause dramatically before yelling, "You don’t *respect* my snacks!"
Cue the existential crisis.
The TV couple eventually reconciled with heartfelt apologies, a tearful hug, and a cheesy soundtrack swelling in the background. I scoffed. "Real life isn’t this easy!" But deep down, I knew—*I* was the drama.
So, I decided to do something about it. I marched over to my roommate (still sulking over the peanut butter debacle) and announced, “Listen, we’ve got to talk. I realize I may have been... *extra* about the whole sandwich thing.” My roommate blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. You threw a spoon at me.”
Oops. Forgot about that part.
We laughed it off, and I realized...
