I was in
Mr Atkins' room
just finishing
the bed making,
when Sophia came
in behind me
and closed the door
behind her.
I turned
to face her.
What are you
doing here?
I said.
Wanted to see you
about the parents,
she said,
looking at me.
What about them?
I said.
They not happy
about you
being there.
They invited me,
I said.
I know but they
are old fashioned,
and like
the old ways,
and they
are not sure
about you,
she said.
I shouldn't go
to your place
anymore?
I said,
feeling relieved.
Best not to;
I tell them we
have parted,
she said.
Will they
believe that?
I said.
If you not there
and I am alone,
then they will
think that,
she said.
So no more
interrogations
then by your father,
I said.
She smiled,
no more
interrogations
as you call them,
she said.
I smiled
and said:
so what
now then?
We see each other
away from home,
she said,
*** there too
dangerous anyway,
she said,
her Polish accent
discernible.
I recalled us
having ***
in her bed
that time
and always
listening out
in case her parents
returned too soon.
Ok,
I said,
feeling happy
in some way,
but uncertain
in another.
We could
have *** here,
she said,
pointing to
Mr Atkins' bed.
Not here,
what if
the old boy
comes up here
and sees
us at it,?
no too risky,
I said.
Where then
we have ***
She said.
I gazed at her.
She was serious.
She wanted
*** at work
in one of
the old boys' beds.
Mr Cutts' room empty,
she said,
he die last week,
bed empty.
We couldn't,
I said.
We could,
she said,
no one come,
we will be alone.
I thought of it
and the freshly
made bed
and the room
cleaned
by Sophia
the other day.
Too risky,
what if someone
hears us,
I said.
We be quiet,
she said.
You be quiet?
You're like
a piglet
being slaughtered,
I said.
She smiled.
We can be quiet
if we want to,
she said.
She unbuttoned
her blue
overall top
and said:
it do us good,
get rid of tensions.
I recalled the ***
in her
parents' room
that one time,
like it was
the biggest
of expeditions,
the biggest crime.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
I was in
Mr Atkins' room
just finishing
the bed making,
when Sophia came
in behind me
and closed the door
behind her.
I turned
to face her.
What are you
doing here?
I said.
Wanted to see you
about the parents,
she said,
looking at me.
What about them?
I said.
They not happy
about you
being there.
They invited me,
I said.
I know but they
are old fashioned,
and like
the old ways,
and they
are not sure
about you,
she said.
I shouldn't go
to your place
anymore?
I said,
feeling relieved.
Best not to;
I tell them we
have parted,
she said.
Will they
believe that?
I said.
If you not there
and I am alone,
then they will
think that,
she said.
So no more
interrogations
then by your father,
I said.
She smiled,
no more
interrogations
as you call them,
she said.
I smiled
and said:
so what
now then?
We see each other
away from home,
she said,
*** there too
dangerous anyway,
she said,
her Polish accent
discernible.
I recalled us
having ***
in her bed
that time
and always
listening out
in case her parents
returned too soon.
Ok,
I said,
feeling happy
in some way,
but uncertain
in another.
We could
have *** here,
she said,
pointing to
Mr Atkins' bed.
Not here,
what if
the old boy
comes up here
and sees
us at it,?
no too risky,
I said.
Where then
we have ***
She said.
I gazed at her.
She was serious.
She wanted
*** at work
in one of
the old boys' beds.
Mr Cutts' room empty,
she said,
he die last week,
bed empty.
We couldn't,
I said.
We could,
she said,
no one come,
we will be alone.
I thought of it
and the freshly
made bed
and the room
cleaned
by Sophia
the other day.
Too risky,
what if someone
hears us,
I said.
We be quiet,
she said.
You be quiet?
You're like
a piglet
being slaughtered,
I said.
She smiled.
We can be quiet
if we want to,
she said.
She unbuttoned
her blue
overall top
and said:
it do us good,
get rid of tensions.
I recalled the ***
in her
parents' room
that one time,
like it was
the biggest
of expeditions,
the biggest crime.
