It was almost funny how she knew what the cruelest insult would be. And only someone who really got him would understand how to hurt him that way.
Suddenly she bolted.
Yikes! In seconds she’d be out of view.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” He punctuated the grab of each article of clothing with that word. But he didn’t have time and he wasn’t about to let her head back by herself.
Her hair came down and flew out behind her in damp streamers.
And suddenly they were in his dream. He was chasing her; he couldn’t catch up.
He nearly tripped scrambling into his jeans, hopping on one foot and then the other. He swore fervently but there wasn’t time to tie himself into his boots. So he just grabbed them and ran barefoot, very inadvisable, but in a few seconds she’d be out of view, and at least this was mostly dirt and flattened scrub and fuck it, he could chance it. He was all but tippy-toeing on the balls of his feet like Wile E. Coyote sneaking up on the Road Runner.