Hard Evidence

“I’m so terribly, terribly sorry,” Seb says, his gaze sheepish as he drags a huge bag through the front door of the flat. He may well have a body in there: it’s that huge.
“You’re here now,” I say, wrapping my arms around him, inhaling his musty woodland scent of clothes-he-walks-the-dogs-in. There’s toothpaste in there, and shampoo and it’s my favourite boy smell.
“I’m just so horribly unreliable,” Seb says, putting his arms round me. Resting my face on his chest, I can feel that he’s put a bit of weight on. He needed to. He’s so lovely and strong. His hair has grown and falls in thick curls about his brow: that cupid in the famous print resting his head on his hands.
“It’s OK,” I say. “Do you want a cup of tea or…”
“A pee,” he says.

Making my way to the kitchen, I turn the microwave on, put the hob back on.
“Wow this looks fantastic,” Seb says, gazing at the Mexican feast, pulling a chair out, sitting down.

Watching “The Lovely Bones” – not a nice murder – a little girl is killed by a dodgy neighbour – but a good film. Seb is drinking gin and slimline tonic with me. We start snogging and then move to the bedroom…

Waking up this morning, I see that Seb is in my bed!
“Did you sleep OK?” I say.
Opening his eyes, he smiles at me and opens his arms. “Come here,” he says. And then Rude Things happen again…

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