Followed each other tangentially, girlfriend went that way, me, up a steep slimy stone pile left by lumberjacks.
A pair of harmless outdoors marauders eventually met in the middle of a precise layout of commercial forest.
Our vehicle-based argument was thirty minutes gone, forgotten for forward feet manoeuvres, no progress standing still.
Dog Psychology, the new super science, we’d talked about it.
Wet, wild and gale force wind, taking cover, two dogs, with opposite temperaments to wet coats, believed in the near but far investment in blue car super-towels.
We got to it, the car and the gold, rubbed them dry, sacrificed own comfort for their hopes of dry, the trip home to raw chicken carcasses and milk, and we ate warmed-up ‘Eventually’.