"The millwork warehouse goes six days a week. I worry about the work sometimes," (Bob came home with splinters in his hands, and in his shoulder) "but...Bob prefers it to office work." Well, it's better than road work." Bob had worked on a road-building crew the summers before his marriage. It took him far away."It's better for me; I'm not sure it's better for him." He wouldn't dream of leaving you for the summer, dear." Bob wouldn't willingly spend a night apart, but not even Bob would tell his. My garment, which has valiantly clung to my tits the entire time, decides to give up the ghost and flutters down. I squawk and try to grab it but miss because I stagger while crouching, and then fall on my butt with an “ouff!” and sink onto my elbows. Yep, there’s a reason my middle name isn’t Grace.As I half-sit, half-lie there on the cool ground like a wounded starfish, Rune comes to stand over me, between my spread legs, and gazes down at me.He’s a living skyscraper from this angle.Or maybe. More

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