#752: Phobia

[[A blonde woman and a brunette woman observe a snake on the ground.]]

Blonde: Whoa, a snake!

Brunette: Cool!

Blonde: I’m afraid of snakes.

[[The brunette looks pensive.]]

Brunette: I’m afraid of saying “Everything’s complicated right now, but maybe next year” until there are no more years left.

[[The blonde considers her response.]]

[[The brunette cuts her off mid-sentence.]]

Blonde: Do you–

Brunette: I want to be a storm chaser.

[[A tornado reaches from the black storm clouds to the earth, kicking up a sizable cloud of debris at its base. The blonde woman is at the wheel of a car, the brunette hanging out the window and holding a camera.]]