. . . . in which i am dating ashley. there is a feeling of mutual attraction but perhaps a little one-sided - i am completely besotted with her and it shows through my constant need to touch her face with mine, or my nose, my excitedly wanting to share things with her for the first time and my anxiety following quickly at having perhaps overshared something. one such was revealing how much i love to swear (something that came up at craft night when sharon outed me as a cunt lover to dylan) and my history of swearing, which without even getting to the point i immediately wanted to retract having felt both the excitement of vulnerability and the shame of having brought up something that was actually quite heavy on what was supposed to be a lighthearted or romantic occasion. my feelings are all over the place. ashley recoils a bit, misreading my gravity amd thinking that i was dancing around a breakup. we are in blue moon and it feels like a sunday morning (when they are in fact closed) with gentle light smeared through the dirty windows. the interior and layout is different though - perhaps reminiscent of williams radio. the door is ajar - ambiguously open - but no one else is here to serve. ashley is not working, but slips behind the counter i think because some customers have come in and they need help and she is a sweetheart. again i want to go up and chat to her but i realize that i must contain my enthusiasm because the other customers are to come first. two people eventually appear from the side/back to relieve her . . . .
besot