No one could see them from the road. They don’t go on strike. He’d hoped she’d drink something cheap, like cider, or better still, orange juice. He needs a break.
She can’t have eaten for days. Really, he was the most unrole-reversed guy. But his mind had suddenly gone completely blank, as though someone had pulled a lavatory chain, draining all the information out of his head, leaving an empty cistern. As she came out of the bakers, the low afternoon sun shone directly into her eyes.
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