Personal Space (bp coyle)

‘So,’ she said nervously, ‘I’ve been thinking…’

‘Oh yeah.  About what?’

‘I should move in with you.’

‘I see…’

‘I know this might seem sudden but it makes a lot of sense. We’d save a lot of money.’


‘And we be around each other so much more.’

‘I guess.’

‘And we could have sex all day every day.’

‘That‘d be good.’

‘Anyway, it’s just an idea. Think it over for a few days and we can talk about it next weekend when I come over to yours.’


He poured himself a large glass of brandy when he got home, lay down on his couch and began brooding.

She was a great woman, he loved being around her.

And lots more sex was very tempting.

He sighed deeply. This was the nicest place he’d ever lived in. Truth is he’d lived in some real dumps in his time.

He looked at his paintings on his walls, originals if not great quality. He looked at the door to his office, to his bedroom. His books on his shelves. He sipped his brandy, refilled his glass. Then he dialed her number.

‘I think we should break up,’ he told her.

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