tonight maybe baby?

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He woke early, scratchily and usually tried to wake Laura as well. She wasn’t impressed, but sleepily rolled from doona to ute to sand, it was better to go along for the ride than sleep in til ten, and then realise Dan wasn’t coming back till dark and she was stuck in the apartment with his Pa. Oh god, his Pa. Another con on the ever growing list. So Laura spent her mornings in the sand, cold and making conversation with girls she couldn’t stomach, their vapid thoughts undisguised in the sunrise

She speaks in riddles, & washes away his tears with more salt. Sing like you mean it.

She tried playing nice and playing along, other days she spoke in rhyme and of Kesey and Welsh until the girls feigned sleep or moved into the waves themselves. Other days Laura refused to speak at all, stalking off down the beach away from the break towards the strip, in her pyjamas and bed hair, searching for a decent coffee, laughing when offered spare change and dodged by joggers.

They rolled home together on dusk, his skin wet and cold, held together by his jumper, her skin hot and impatient with thoughts of him. She opened the balcony door wider, and let the sea breeze in.

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