Twenty One

I asked later, via my blog, whether this was an inappropriate remark. I only got one response:

You're a disgusting pig.

Anon.

I don't think they read my whole entry where I explained I was trying to cheer her up. Anyway...

When her tear-filled eyes stared at me from above her parted, trembling lips I figured I wasn't helping. I've never been into feelings, besides my own, so I did the best I could. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It must have been such a shock.' I put my hands in my pockets, mainly because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I stole a few rapid glances at her.

She nodded and seemed to relax a little. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. 'No, I'm sorry,' she said between sniffs. 'I don't know why I told you that...' She took a final deep breath as if putting the subject behind her and turned away from the waves. 'No, I haven't,' she said.

I frowned but felt safe to look at her now that it seemed unlikey that she would subject me to more emotional abuse.

She smiled, quite bravely I thought, and said, 'They didn't have an an A3 sized copier.'

I made a show of examining her bottom and nodding sympathetically. She punched me in the arm, despite the null risk of actually detecting her bum size hidden as it was in the magically expanding bag-dress.

My arm ached for a good half hour but I pretended that my Y chromosone protected me from pain and only rubbed it when she wasn't looking.

'Mike thinks Lisa's screwing around,' I blurted as we got into the car. I wished I could retract it as soon as the words escaped, but that's what happens when I start to relax: thoughts ejaculate as unfiltered words.

It was Nina's turn to shrug with forced casualness.

Twenty Two