As my phone bleeps, I know it is the text I have been longing for. ’Tea downstairs’. I wriggle out of the sensuous duvet and writhe into my fleecy dressing gown. As I walk to the bathroom I glimpse the grey tie and finger it slowly. Yes…yes I MUST get it to the dry-cleaners today.
‘What do you want for breakfast?’ He says.
‘Oh, nothing. I’ll grab some toast later’
“NO. You must…eat” The word lingers on his lips like a crumb of Marmite toast, desperate to be licked off in salty delight.
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