Allan wasn't home according to my guess, or wasn't he? I think he had a bad day or sommat. I went all the way to his home from church after services were over, only attending one (I'm pregnant and could only manage one for stress of the baby coming during the meeting if I attended one more I thought maybe, you know what it's like as a Mother if you are one!)
Allan's house was an apartment in a building of respectable people who don't want to be bothered with me ringing and ringing and ringing on their sound system so I stopped ringing after one try and batted my eyelashes at Allan's direction instead on the seat nearby, hoping him to come out for milk or whatever people come out of apartments for these days on Sunday afternoon or evening if they don't go to church where I hoped to find them if they were going, and waited...hours I thought would go by before I left hopelessly floundering for clues to find my beloved Allan.
Where was he? In his apartment, but apparently in no mood for a visitor. I heard a window open not, but his head evidently went out a window and he yelled epithets at me, quite unlike anyone else I know, and shut the window with a slam. I cried nearly, you think, no I was disgruntled not even, but wondered what was the matter with him. I was on his side it was a bad day for him, not for me. His hair dresser even knew it was a bad day for him, I bet.
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