Mike, newly single and 51, thought things were going well. Bree was into property, something Mike was exploring as a next step. The talk was easy.
She leant forward, whispered, “I’ve had refurbishments done.” Mike frowned, thought of kitchen cupboards. Then she claimed ownership of something mystifying. He imagined a Carnival-clad pool boy, an unfamiliar breed of cat, a domesticated capybara (improbable).
She disappeared to the Ladies’. He took out his smartphone, entered the search and opened an image. It took a moment to work out what he was looking at.
“Whatcha doing, sweetie?” said Bree, leaning over his shoulder.
She leant forward, whispered, “I’ve had refurbishments done.” Mike frowned, thought of kitchen cupboards. Then she claimed ownership of something mystifying. He imagined a Carnival-clad pool boy, an unfamiliar breed of cat, a domesticated capybara (improbable).
She disappeared to the Ladies’. He took out his smartphone, entered the search and opened an image. It took a moment to work out what he was looking at.
“Whatcha doing, sweetie?” said Bree, leaning over his shoulder.
