Anthony: How’s Ming?
Me: Yes, Ming, it’s always Ming. What about me? When you were still alive the first thing you would always say to me is “How’s Ming?” instead of what you should have said….
Anthony: Hello, your royal highness; is that better?
Me: Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.
Anthony: So is repetitiveness.
Me: Ming is fine and now recovering well from a dreadful bout of lovesickness, the details of which I will not divulge here but you know anyway.
Anthony: I only ever understood that when I thought I might lose you, Jules.
Me: Understood what?
Anthony: Lovesickness.
Me: Oh yes, that phase. I remember you crying down the phone and I thought you must have been pretending because it was so unlike your usual macho-ness. And the flowers you sent! Cheap, poignant and astonishing, almost as astonishing as your utterance of the words ‘love’ and ‘marry’ and I was just about to get on a plane to the other side of Australia to see a man who adored me.
Anthony: Those flowers weren’t cheap, Jules.
Me: It was too late, Ants.
Anthony: I was going to lose you, Jules.
Me: I lied to you and said I was just visiting a friend up north.
Anthony: I suspected and rang the travel agent and he broke protocol by telling me you were going to Sydney.
Me: Yeah, to meet a man who adored me instantly. I had finally given up on you. It wasn’t a game, or a dare, or an ultimatum; I really had decided that this confirmed bachelor, best friend, workaholic dairy farmer wasn’t suitable.
Anthony: I’m so sorry, Jules.
Me: Yeah, that’s what you kept saying on the phone to me the night before my flight; you used every lovesick cliché I’d ever heard. I took notes because I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and I wrote them on a big pad during my plane flight because I knew, if I didn’t write your words down, I would never believe you had said them.
Anthony: I suddenly realised I might lose you.
Me: Better late than never I suppose but you have no idea how ghastly it was to be chased around a penthouse for days on end by a man who had paid for my trip and expected some sort of recompense. Even when I read him bits from my notes of what you had said to me in that phone-call, through the locked bathroom door, he persisted.
Anthony: Why did you go?
Me: It was all booked and paid for and I felt obligated. How was I supposed to know you would have this almost-too-late epiphany about me?
Anthony: I feel like such an idiot now.
Me: Good.
Anthony: I thought forgiveness was important to you.
Me: It is, but a little bit of guilt doesn’t do anyone any harm.
Anthony: Jules?
Me: What?
Anthony: How’s Ming?
Me: Much better.
Anthony: That’s all I wanted to know.
Me: What about me?
Anthony: You are ferociously fine, Jules.
Me: And the best thing about this post?
Anthony: You are laughing?
Me: Yes!
jmgoyder 
Gorgeous photograph.
I am so nostalgic
I like the idea of shouting someone else’s propositions at a propositioner. And I am glad that Ming is doing OK.
Absolutely awesome
Aaahhh, so nice to be wanted. A nice conversation. Imagined or not.