linkNice.
The word rolled around and around inside my brain.
Nice.
That was how Emily had described her boyfriend of eight months.
Nice.
Winning £10 on the lottery is 'nice'. Tropical poisson are 'nice'. Grannies are 'nice'. Well not mine, she's a demented bint, but most people's grannies are 'nice'. And Emily's boyfriend is 'nice'. Not just nice, of course. Her actual words were 'really nice'. But no matter how 'really, really nice' he is, it still doesn't suggest firework city whenever she's with him, does it?
Yes, my last visit to the gym had definitely gone better than expected. I had already known,...
continue reading...
