Before she knew it, the cake was gone and she felt slightly better. But only slightly. Reacting instinctively, she reached into the bag yet again and ...ulled out a tub of ice cream. It had melted slightly, but not too much and was still quite consistent in it’s texture. This was harder to eat than the cake, not having a spoon, Sophie was f***ed to scoop it out with her hands, where it quickly melted fully, her hands becoming sticky with ice cream. She didn’t care though, shoveling in more and. ”“Clogged arteries, too much fatty food,” she said, “He loved fatty food.”“I’m sorry, do I need to know this?” I asked.“Big fat pot belly, he was so fat that on Saturday nights after Match of the Day I had to kneel down so he could get it in me from behind, “ she said, “When he could get it up at all, which wasn’t often, he used to like that Helga on ‘Allo ‘Allo, when she wore a corset and suspenders, or was it Herr Flick, I never knew.”“Do I really need to know this?” I asked.“He used to look. More

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