We eat together at a grey table in a blank corner of a pavement on one of the busier London streets. Above the table we smiled and sipped and watched each other's lips say the soundless words, beneath the table our thighs, hips and ankles speak in a different tongue.
He asks for the bill and takes the plate. I offer a contribution although I know he will refuse; I've fed him often enough with my scrambled eggs on toast not to be embarrassed in not pressing the point.
"I'll take it out of your body later" he promises, "including a generous tip"
3 comments:
Ah, what a treat to look forward to!
"Above the table we smiled and sipped and watched each other's lips say the soundless words, beneath the table our thighs, hips and ankles speak in a different tongue".
Oh my - you conjure a truly wonderful image. I confess my envy as unfortunately, I have not once experienced such moments of apparently melodic dialogue - the masks, the deceptions, the attempts to discover the full range of voices available.
Fantastic - I can only imagine.
Saw Twitter comment re the crash. Very sad.
Never done Studland, but I think last year I posted link to Slapton, where we go? Anyway, that's good, too.
M in Devon (pilot's license; tho' not current)
PS As a professional writer, I loved the "take it out of your body" phrase. You're wasted on Photoshop, girl.
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