I suppose so. And then have dinner. And then you can give me that new tattoo. He ran his hands through his hair again, balling up the thin brown fibers and depositing them in the ashtray. It's the thirtieth of April.
All days are the same.
She began to laugh and snort. All right, you win, honey, you win. In the room at the Hotel Cunoel she took off his clothes very slowly, covering him with kisses. He knew it was because she was drunk and sleepy from the grey weather, but it felt good anyway. It had been such a long time that it felt new and fresh, and dizzy, even.