Monday, January 12, 2004

I call him the major. Every morning (for the last year or so) I take Gali on my bike to her nursery. On our way, we short cut through Chester Terrace. Every day when we pass through (unless we're 8 minutes late or more), we see him. All clad in tweed and tie, pipe between his teeth, cleaning his silver BMV. Caressing her lush German body with a soapy chamois. Every day. Shine or snow.

Today, for the first time, we nodded good morning at each other.

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