Noodle Soup

I have a cold.

I originally had a asthma attack which resulted in a horrible cough. Then that horrible cough morphed into a hacking cough. Combined with a runny nose, I'm pretty sure it's a cold.

And, when I get sick my voice gets all husky and sexy. Brisk commented that I sound like a sultry 1940s jazz singer. I like.

This afternoon as we were headed back to work post coffee break I whined, "Briiiissskkkkk make me noodle soup."

"One caveat," he insisted, and I knew what it was, "Chicken."

"If you make and bring me chicken noodle soup, I'll eat it." I told him.

"Wait, let me get this straight—you're giving me an in?" he questioned.

"Yup," I countered, "that's how sure I am that you won't make me noodle soup."

The woman on the escalator behind us laughed.

Brisk then ensured me that he makes delicious noodle soup, right down to the homemade noodles.

Here's the thing—I don't think he actually would make me noodle soup; but, if he put in the effort I totally would.