Maybe because my earliest jobs in high school and college were all hard labor. Now that I spent most of my days behind a desk, I liked getting out and...getting dirty. Swinging the axe, trying to cut my way through a tree a good two feet in diameter, feeling the intense impact, watching chunks of wood explode away from my precise blows, I loved it all. I enjoyed the feel of the wooden handle in my hands, the flexing of my shoulder muscles, the tension in my back. I worked hard, cutting through. Using my confused state against me, he kept digging. ‘So, with all that behind you, what do you do to keep busy now? Did you ever go back and finish your degree?’ I ignored the last part of his question and smirked at him. ‘Don’t I get to ask questions about your mysterious past?’ ‘It’s polite to talk about the lady on a date,’ he said piously. ‘Is this a date?’ I asked, my eyebrows rising almost against my will. ‘You’re the one who said it was a romantic lunch. We can quibble about the details. More

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