So I was at Pride (Cardiff) today, and a woman walked past with short, dirty blonde hair, wearing a sports bra and a plaid shirt hanging just open around it, low rise jeans and a pair of Cat boots and honestly, Iβve read the fic, Iβve imagined (God, have I imagined!) Bernie Wolfe in her running gear, in her rolled-up sleeves look, but holy Mary Mother of Jesus I didnβt realise how much of an effect this look would have on me, likeβ¦ I was working in a tent and I had to sit the fuck down for a few minutes because my knees gave out about the same time as my lungs did.
I think it is quite mad the things that, at the time, are seemingly overwhelming and life-altering, can be so forgettable.
I have absolutely no recollection of this moment whatsoever.
