A
He brushed the crumbs off sitting still, before claiming the second course.
- And the beans? Where are the beans?
Her husband left her soup and half on the plate while still cold and swallowed the liquid is raised by the damn beans.
not giving anything intereante on television, but she looked rapt.
chickpeas on the table.
- are hard. She scolded.
- Sorry. They had been two hours cooking.
- For the next three. Bring the oil.
oil on the table.
This galled him insolent slave existence. Her companion was not, or so he said, not much less sexist autoritariani curmudgeon. Out of doors was all understanding and good manners. Long ago abandoned the love of reading, the cinema, sex ...
readings, the TV guide.
The film, a western unfinished.
sex, smelling of whiskey.
Got rid of it as patiently as he could. Who cares that the beans were hard if there were seasoned with cyanide? She walks slowly
