Pfft, hasn’t he finished yet? I’m lying on my back trying to count the glow-in-the- dark stars on my ceiling. On top of me John is moving up and down. At least ten minutes in the same rhythm. He looks focused and there is sweat on his forehead. I have to try my hardest not …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.