They tried to keep in contact but slowly drifted apart. The last thing that Gavin heard about her was that she was starting her own clothing line whil... working as a part-time model. Time passed and things happened. He seldom got home to see his dad, instead sending a card, including a photo of where he was working. On one job he suddenly found himself only 30 miles from home so he took a quick detour to see his dad. The surprise that awaited him was anything but expected. When he knocked on. He wasn't too certain what that "more" consisted of though."Not yet," Dog told him. "When you find out what that 'more' is you'll be very thankful." Okay, tell me now, how do you two do it?" She stared at Greg hard, almost willing the answer out of him. "You guys got signals of some kind, like Morse Code or something, what?"Greg shrugged his shoulders in a "who me?" sort of gesture and shook his head. He looked down for a moment and then answered, "We read each other's minds," Greg told her. He put the money Chinwe paid him into a drawer that had other monies in them. A monitor was on a desk which connected to the CCTV camera in the shop. He could see the shop through it. He grabbed an apron and tied it around him. A lot of baking equipment were well arronged in the little space used for baking. There were more fresh bread on a shelf. A pan on the work surface had unbaked fish rolls on them. Sammy opened the oven to check on little, heart shaped cookies. Chinwe sipped her juice. Her two meaty hands dived into the butchers’ apron, tied about her considerable girth. He would have gulped if he had been able to when she about-faced and squatted down on the ground to cut some of the long stalks down. Before they left, the crofter set about pushing back in the straw that had fallen to the ground, hitching up the listing kilt, and flicking some of the dried lumps of horseshit from the front of the pink monstrosity. Every week they came back, gathering more of the little.
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