After nearly twenty years married, his jokes all sounded the same, worn and dated, same as their conversation, their sex life and pretty much everythi...g else. She switched off that train of thought before it went too much further and left her crying as she did too often these days.Her eyes were too wide apart, her nose not in proportion, being small and upturned; her skin needed help; her hair was always a struggle to control, being too fine and a russet brown that she wished was blonde. Jean. Some iron slabs stood tall and blunt like monoliths, while others had been forged and twisted into fanciful Gothic forms. She stood near the departure queue and heard the jake brake screech on the next bus in line to depart Chicago, many yards from where the buses heading into the city had dropped her off. Her shoulder ached already from having carried the knapsack through the rabbit warren of the bus station from the arrival depot.The Loop was bustling, but impersonal and hurried: Nobody spoke. I breathed deeply and enjoyed her scent. It smelled like flowers or perfume. She moved slightly, rubbing her pussy against my face ever so subtly. Then she lifted up a little bit and said “wooops! Excuse me.” I said, “Oh, sorry” and moved away from the ladder, allowing her to come down. She picked the new bulb up off the floor, giving me that great double peek at her panties and up her shirt at her heavy swaying breasts. When she stood up this time, the shirt had crept above both of her nipples. He was mostly bald except a few short grey hair on the sides. She that that he was a friar judging by the brown habit and crucifix chain he was wearing, and from the large backpack and shoulder bag (that looked as worn and faded as his habit) beside him. She thought that he might be travelling to somewhere that's quite so far from here. "Good evening brother, go to Hemmingford?" she greeted him after first getting out of her car. "No my child, I am going to the monastery in Getlin, It's on this.
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