"I just can't cook." Sarah lamented.
"Why so?" inquired Leone, who was as earnest in her query as a nurse, would be to her patient.
"Chopping is the key ingredient to sauté anything, and alas! I can't chop onions. They bring tears to my eyes." With that, she gave out a deep sigh that was as cold as if she just landed in the Frigid zone.
Leone was quick to hand a shield to her friend, "Wear this armor before you chop, it will protect you from the sooty vapors that the onions emit, and prevent tears from coming."
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In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that declares, shield your face. It can be a knight of old, a doctor, or a senior citizen. What is the circumstance? Who makes the declaration? Go where the prompt leads!
