36
Blood On The Tracks – Bob Dylan
When I’d finished my meal, I lit a cigarette, and said, ‘I guess you’re harbouring a fugitive again.’
‘I’ll say you held me up at gunpoint.’
‘Makes sense.’
‘Let’s go inside, and I’ll make fresh coffee, then you can get some sleep.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said, stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray she’d brought out for me, and we both went into the sitting room.
‘You’re bleeding,’ she said, and nodded towards my legs.
There were bloodstains on the denim from the wounds on my legs leaking. ‘I’ve got plasters,’ I said. ‘But I might ruin your sheets.’
‘There’s always bleach and the washing machine.’
‘No need. I’ll buy you a new pair. Egyptian cotton.’
‘The first day I met you, Nick, I knew you were a man with good taste.’
‘And how right you were.’
S
