The Object of Discourse

I’m standing by the window, looking out on a gray and gloomy day, when Katie comes up behind me.

With an audible gasp, she grabs the back of my head and points my face towards a beautiful dog walking across the street.

“One day, you’re going to break my neck doing that,” I tell her, laughing.

“Listen, my elbow hurts, which is clearly what we should be talking about,” she replies.