Nell and Digby met at university. She was a student and he was a young entrepreneur, flogging sandwiches to students staggering out of the uni disco.
Thanks to an earlier white-out, she was ravenous. Thanks too to that white-out she was skint.
“I’ve no money,” she wailed. Digby’s assistant dismissed her. Digby made a sandwich up anyway.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Directness contributed to Digby’s entrepreneurial success.
She took her time answering. The term end beckoned, as did Camp America. No point in beginning something.
She took a bite of the sandwich. It was heavenly.
“No,” she smiled.
Thanks to an earlier white-out, she was ravenous. Thanks too to that white-out she was skint.
“I’ve no money,” she wailed. Digby’s assistant dismissed her. Digby made a sandwich up anyway.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Directness contributed to Digby’s entrepreneurial success.
She took her time answering. The term end beckoned, as did Camp America. No point in beginning something.
She took a bite of the sandwich. It was heavenly.
“No,” she smiled.
