How could left be infatuated with right? he thought. That’s how it started—endless love. Some days he wondered if she loved him back and, if she did, would she love him when he was old, hairy, and waxy? He knew he would. Eternal lobe love.
People said there’s a pipe connecting the left ear lobe with its right counterpart. But that’s a big lie, all ears knew the kingdom ended shortly after they became internal. Just to think of that would make him cry. The left ear lobe looked forward for the morning, the only time he could see her and say hi. But, oh irony, she wouldn’t listen because ears can’t really talk.
One morning he saw her wink at him; somehow she managed to wrinkle itself a little bit—an imperceptible movement. Warmth covered him. He tried to run, but ear lobes don’t run, they stay put and listen to undecipherable words only brains understand.
That’s how it was, that’s how it has always been, and that’s how it would be for the rest of their lives. Unrealized love, platonic love, lobe love.
