When I woke up next morning, I was still on the sofa. Larry was already dressed. He was rushing around and muttering like he was late for work, and the kitchen smelled of burnt toast.
I tried to grab him and give him a kiss, but he wouldn’t let me. “Sofa comfortable, was it?” he asked. His voice sounded a bit like it does when he talks about Dr Hardwicke.
“Not really,” I said. “I got a stiff neck.” I yawned and rubbed it a bit. Usually when I get a stiff neck, Larry gives it a rub, but I guess he didn’t have time.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, and then he was out the door. I felt sad, ‘cause it was like we hadn’t really spoken or touched or f****d or nothing since he’d been at work yesterday. But I know he’s got a really important job, and he has to work hard.
I hoped he’d have a be
