" I took a lick of my ice cream, she took one of hers I pulled her to me and I kissed her. Really kissed her. She started to giggle as we exchanged ic... cream and when we parted we both were a mess: ice cream covered lips and chins and shirt fronts. We looked into each other's eyes and, in perfect unison said, "Mmmmmmm ... ice cream."We laughed and licked ice cream from our faces, fingers and lips like ten-year-olds. For me, that kinda sealed things. I had been feeling more and more comfortable. ” “Thank you,” he sat opposite her and leaned on the desk, “this will be my typewriter?” “Yes,” she looked at the second typewriter, “it will be your typewriter,” she leaned back and studied him for a moment. The white collarless shirt and braces hid a muscular torso and she smiled at the thought of meeting him after the war. He seemed bemused by her studied reflection and leaned on his palm and returned her stare. “Something wrong?” “Oxford?” “Yes, Oxford,” he replied, “have you ever been. More

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