You stir but do not open your eyes, slumber still reigns, even when a tender hand comes up to stroke your cheek. You move your head around in response...to the touch, and you feel the softness of hair – could this be a beard? – against your neck and face. Your mind does not bother sorting out the sensations that tumble through your mind. And when strong arms go around your body, pulling you even closer against the unseen presence, you find yourself relaxing, and thinking, “How good it is, to be. As I got nearer I could see it was Truffle boy from earlier. Notsurprisingly he was wasted.That group of guys had been piling rubbish etc on top of him and takingselfies for entertainment. I cleared his rubbish pile and attempted towake him. My only success in getting any response from him was squirtingsome water in his face but he still couldn't talk any sense. It had beena lovely hot day, but was now very humid and the forecast storm waslooming. He was lying there in his shorts, shirt tied. More

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