- 5 -
The wooden, seat brimmed with raindrops which glistened into thick wet
smears when he brushed at it with his handkerchief, They sat together
beneath the black umbrella.
-You don't seem all that keen. Not anymore, she said.
-My leg's sore again today.
-Same place? She gently clasped the front of his knee and rubbed it,
Her eyes were dry now,
-I was wondering, she said. What you thought. About getting summer
jobs together.
-I feel total lassitude. Soaked right through in it. All the time now.
My leg feels kind of hollow inside.
-Is this helping it?
Her hand made an even rustle against the knee of his trousers. The
rain murmured down, drips falling off the dark red brick in a multitude of
rhythms.
-You still haven't said. She spoke carefully. Whether we're breaking it
off. Or what.
-I suppose we are, Prudence.
He held his breath.
-You seem to be losing interest, I know that much.
-Your ears move up and down when you're talking, did you know that?
-You just won't ever be serious about it.
-There's a sort of gentle twitching under your hair, like two field
mice. Oh, God.
-You ought to see a doctor about that leg.
