“Oh, this is simply breathtaking, don’t you think?” Alicia said.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s beautiful,” Stan, her fiancé, said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You sound disappointed, Stan. I thought you’d love the view from up here,” Alicia said.
“Yeah, the sunset is nice, and all,” Stan admitted. “But you said we’d be able to see the skyline and the city lights. All I see is a thick fog bank.”
“Well, you’re right,” Alicia admitted. “When the fog settles over the valley, which it often does around this time of the year, you can’t see the lights of the city like you can on a clear night.”
Stan folded his arms across his chest. “So why did we even bother to drive up here?” he asked.
“You can still appreciate the stunning sunset, can’t you?” Alicia asked.
“You know what I can appreciate, Alicia?” Stan said. “I can appreciate sitting on the hammock in your folks’ backyard, smoking a Cuban cigar, and drinking a beer.”
“My mother was right,” Alicia said.
“Your mother? What was she right about?”
“Oh, did I say that out loud?” Alicia asked, a blush coloring her cheeks.
“Yes, you did,” Stan said. “So what did she say?”
Alicia sighed. “Fine. She called us oil and water because she doesn’t think we mix well together.”
Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.