"stop saying 'orange'" he said as they walked home after lunch
"stop complaining" she said back
"if you'd stop complaining about the color of it, i'd stop complaining about you complaining" he argued
"if you'd stop making cheddar the wrong color, i'd stop complaining altogether" she argued back
they walked the rest of the way home side by side in silence. every now and again he could feel her red trench coat brush against his bare arm. he wished he hadn't asked her to stop complaining. now she wouldn't say anything at all. not to him. not for a while.