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I suppose it likely that she was a little bit tipsy. The wharf we were on, in years past, had been rotting and dangerous, dark and forbidding, but was now tastefully decorated with herringbone brickwork and numerous streetlamps. The old dock area had gradually been gentrified and fashionable bars and restaurants now filled the former warehouses and storefronts. Late in the evening, there were few people on the wharf, the night was warm, winking lights reflected off the water. We sat on a bench, taking all this in, when she and her companion approached at a distance. I could hear the murmur of their voices, but could not tell what was being said. Suddenly she stopped and, back to the water, reached down and pushed her pants to her feet. Standing there on display, she reached both hands out to her friend and said something to him. He took her hands in his and she backed towards the edge. Her pants around her ankles, she could not spread her feet very far but nevertheless separated them as best she could. She leaned back over the water and he leaned back the other way, a frozen triangle of extended arms and straight backs. She bent her knees a bit to clear the way. Had he let go while she peed, she would have tumbled back into dark oily waters. Apparently though, her trust was complete, as they spoke and laughed while locked together. After a while, he pulled her back towards him and she reached down to pull up her clothes, first her underwear, then her jeans. Recomposed, she took his arm and they resumed walking towards us. When you are young and in love on a beautiful evening, you will not fall in the water, you will not be accosted, you will not be rebuked or inhibited, instead you will put your head on your lover’s shoulder and he will squeeze your waist as you turn the corner and disappear into the rest of your life. |
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