Everyone said their good nights and went off their separate ways. Rina heard the prostitute throw the bolt on first her front door, then her back door, and tried to snuggle more deeply into the makeshift pile of clothes she was using for a bed.
It was a nuisance that the buttons from the blouses she was lying on kept jabbing her in uncomfortable spots, and she could feel the dirt floor even through her bedding. This should have felt the same as that night in the goat shed, but somehow it didn’t.
There had been a curious edge to that night in Goatsfart, sleeping in the straw, with a strong, attractive man she barely knew lying only a few feet from her.
She had felt exposed and vulnerable because the shed was so open to the elements, but at the same time, she was reasonably sure that the
