On the road train the convenience is primitive. Out the door behind the stove there's a cupboard with a hole in the floor. Through which hole you can see an axle grinding loudly. This gives me something to aim at.
Having finished, and not happy about the freezing wind I turn to go (having been).
Bêbe comes right in there, banging my nose on the door as she pushes her way in, heeling the door shut behind her. There's barely enough room for the both of us, and, well, I'm not fully zipped up yet. I have one hand fumbling with my flies, the other on my nose, and I'm all too aware of how close she is, right up against me.
"you fuck!" she says, and I'm insulted until she slips her hands down, and then I get the picture.
Not romantic.
'not romantic' (ha ha ha ha ha)
ReplyDeleteTrue. And true to the story.
Imagine in the garden surrounded by sunflowers. And beating them into submission. Frickin' garden.