Modern Romance - M/F dialogue
Description
Read MoreVocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Wynn slips the pottery apron over his neck and perches on the stool, his face etched with consternation. Relax. I shake his shoulders as I cross to the next stool, I drag it up to his and sit. It's like driving. Get your hands a little damp. Oh, I never drive with damp hands. He says, well, that's your first mistake. It's illegal to drive with dry hands. I think the laws are different in Montana. Don't be ridiculous. I say there are no laws in Montana. If you have a big enough hat, you can just claim whatever you want. And it's yours. True. I once owned a slew of Walmarts that way. He says, until a guy with a bigger hat came along, I say, listen, I'm not gonna make you do this when I thought you wanted to. I do. He says I'm stalling because I'm afraid I'm gonna ruin it. I already told you you can't ruin it. That's the whole point. Now, get your hand stamp. I lean forward to drag the bowl of water closer and with a slight grimace, he dips his hands into it. Good. I say now use your left hand to give slight pressure to the side of the vase. Your right is more for balance to keep it upright. He sets his palms against the structures sides. Now, what ease onto the pedal? He does and because he's win, he does so beautifully, but as soon as he reaches full speed, he pushes too hard and I dive to catch his right hand, studying it before the would-be vase can topple told you I'd ruin it. So dramatic. I tease, brushing my nose against his neck. He didn't ruin it. We're just changing the shape of it. I lean across him to put my other palm on the outside of his left hand, matching the pressure, the vase narrowing and funneling upward. Now, we really are doing the ghost thing he says, not quite, I say, but I don't think my arms are long enough that I could sit behind you and do this. Definitely not. But you are welcome to sit in my lap. Excuse me? I say I'm the one in charge here. Everyone knows the person sitting in the lap is the amateur. So you want me to sit in your lap? He says, I don't have a death wish. Glad to hear it. His gaze flickers back to the clay. Somehow we're keeping it from collapsing or tipping over. It flares out narrows and flares again, wonky. But standing