Mal de mer

“Luv, let’s get away this weekend,” Harry said. “Take the ferry, have an adventure, romp in a four poster bed.”

Lady didn’t mention the hole in the wall or the crumbling parging or the sconce dangling from the kitchen window. She stopped nagging but it niggled nonetheless.

The crossing was rough and the ferry pitched and heaved. “Hang on”, said Lady and fetched a bucket while Harry turned green and clutched the railing. She watched rolling waves of mal de mer bring up lumps of vomit, stinking with his inadequacy.

Ashore, Harry held the battered bucket and watched his Lady leave.

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