The canvas pants almost tore at her skin as they slid off. It was a relief to be free of them. Adrian grabbed her little feet, squeezing her toes. �...Your shoes?” “A sacrifice, to the River-God.” She joked, wriggling. She held out her arms, grateful for the warmth of this body. Their clothing made soggy sounds as it fell away around them. Adrian’s sodden hat went first, and then his vest, shirt and finally they succeeded wrestling him free of his jeans. Both were now muddy and breathing hard. . “Since I brought a can of coffee grounds, can I have a cup of your fresh coffee?” she asked when the bun was gone.“Sure as long as you brew the next pot, and put it in the aging jar,” I said. The aging jar was actually an iced tea pitcher with an ‘x’ on the outside. The ‘x’ was made of red duct tape. Like everything in my life the coffee ritual was complicated. I brewed the coffee one day, then poured the whole pot into the brewing pitcher. The brewing pitcher lid was self sealing. The thing. More

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