“Of course you do…I mean I know you do.”
The phone clicked, then purred, then hung limply, silent. The words weren’t.
Fuck it. He sucked his finger, and flicked the cherry-less butt through the open doors. The smell of burning polyester drifted ever closer…sweet…acrid. Stamp on it. The floor was tacky red with broken glass and blood. The bell rang. Twice. “It’s open.” “What are you doing down there?” She looked at him, balancing on her left foot, a shoe in her right hand. Nothing. He didn’t look up, putting the wrap back in his pocket, he drank some water. “Shall we go now?”
“Not tonight.” I’m busy, erm, no.
She left with both shoes on.
“You know I love you?”