I do have a happy drabble on the theme

Joe was always honest about what first attracted him to me. "You've got great tits," he said, propping his head up on his hand. "Plus, they're real."

"Most tits, not being holographic, are real." What passes for pillow talk with a geek girl and her first serious lover.

"Well, there's real, then there's real." He got up and went to the foot locker by the bed. The locker that held three years of back issues of Playboy, legacy of a stint in the Navy in the last days of Vietnam. Now, though, he pulled out several issues, flipping to the middle to check the centerfold. "See? Fake tits."

"How can you tell?" And we spent the next several hours comparing two dimensions unfavorably to three dimensions.

And murder and mayhem deficient

Yes, sigh. Life is dull.

Connie, I liked that one too. It was cute. Or, you know, endearing or something.

Yeah, Joe had his uses.

Okay, here we go. Inspired, as it were, by my current state of under-the-weatheredness.
---
potential

She lies on the couch, enshrouded in her fuzzy pink blanket, all the fires of hell battling in her throat. He tucks her in, the only stillness in the dorm lobby.

It is the first time she’s been sick away from home. He brushes her hair from her cheek, tells her he’s borrowed Murph’s car for the doctor.

She smells like death (though he won’t tell her he notices this until later) and probably looks worse. If he can care for her through strep with such gentleness while they’re dating, maybe they can care for each other all their lives.

I love all of these drabbles, the bloody and the sweet. For some reason, I want to write about my grandfather again. I was going to do a "hands" one about my grandmother, too. Maybe I should be writing more about them.

I don't know if it's because I'm the one running the drabbles, but I keep getting blocked -- I didn't write a hands drabble or a knots drabble. But here's my attempt at the standing/lying down drabble....

****

I had no choice when I spent weeks lying flat on my stomach; it was the only position that didn't cause unbearable pain. Give me all the options, and I’d rather sit, stand, walk. But I couldn’t. Those were taken away from me.

Now, with the surgeon looming over me, I was still lying down, but this time it was my choice. Let him do this, cut me open, fix the broken bits, and put me back together, and I might just get everything back. I might be able to choose when I lie down, and when, like my surgeon, I get to stand, and perform miracles.

Teppy, that was neat.

Thanks -- I think I'm a little too Bob Like Carrots about my surgery, but I was totally blocked on what to write for this drabble, when it suddenly popped into my mind -- I was in that lying-down-with-*everyone*-standing situation for 6 weeks. Perfect drabble fodder.