We’ve taken
refuge. We’re hiding underneath the
eaves of a tin roof of a dusty and unused building. The door is locked – we tried it as soon as
we reached it. No dice. No, the best shelter we can get is leaning
back against the wall and just watching the rain pour down in front of our
noses.
“Now, in this
little scenario I’m Butch Cassidy and you’re the Sundance Kid, okay?”
Gayle nods,
humouring me, as only someone who loves me could.
“Don’t forget
we’re dashing from pillar to post and there seems to be no escape, no evasion,
no rest.”
Gayle nods
again, almost imperceptibly.
It feels like
every day for the past week it’s been raining.
We are running out of time.
“We’re
running out of time.”
Gayle looks
resigned to her fate.
“Kid, the next
time I say ‘How about Turkey for Christmas?’ let’s have turkey for Christmas!”
The Sundance Kid rolls her eyes…….
