“'What sort of beans are they again?' said Adele from the corner of the room, soles of her DM boots against the edge of the low table, a half-completed roll-up perched on her knees. Julian picked up the foil pack, 'It's produced by a Colombian workers’ co-operative. Patricia got it from Pulse, so it's bound to be a good bet.' 'Go on then,' said Adele and Julian filled up a cup and walked round the table to where she was sitting, tongue flicking along the edge of a Rizla. ‘Clare, could I...' he p...ause for no more than a heartbeat, '...tempt you?' One eyebrow raised a fraction. Clare looked up and noticed the expression on his face. 'No, I'm caffeined-out at the moment, cheers.' Julian shrugged and handed the cup to Adele. 'Anyone else?' he asked the rest of the room.A couple of people replied, 'Yes please.' Clare resumed her conversation with Adele, keeping Julian's brown corduroys in the periphery of her vision. As he passed before her seat, he made an exaggerated shuffle to get round her, brushing her knees as he did so.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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