Somehow he made the arrangements, got to the funeral, he was even able to get to the part where he was supposed to speak… and couldn’t. He couldn’t see anyone through the tears, he couldn’t speak through the boulder lodged in his throat. Someone – he still didn’t know who, probably Bob, his boss – got him down from the dais. Someone else, Elizabeth he thought, had comforted him. Tomorrow it would be six months. Just as he’d managed to survive yesterday, in a bubble where no one could touch him, and where he didn’t make any real contact with anyone else, he still had to get through today. Elizabeth, his assistant, would look with compassion in her eyes at him from across the desks they shared, and he would, once again, refuse to engage her beyond superficialities. Bob, his manager, would inquire about some task he’d been assigned, and Stan would respond with the minimum effort required. Stan expected there’d be the usual brushfires that always came up, but he couldn’t make himself. Christine then took the thin stretched material of her T-shirt in her soft hands and slowly pulled it over her gorgeous body. Her breasts briefly being pulled up as her T-shirt passed over them. Suddenly her beautiful breasts were there in front of him and just asking to be touched. He noticed that one her nipples was poking out of her bra giving him a brief view of it before her bra was pulled back to it's correct space."At last," She said triumphantly.Trying not to look too disappointed he looked back at the TV."You won't mind if I change the channel, would you?" Christine asked."Eh, well not really" Dave said quietly.The TV was then changed through a few channels never really settling on a channel. Eventually the TV was switched off. Dave looked at his mum only to find that the TV remote was heading straight for his head. He shot his arms up and caught the remote. He looked at his mother walk off, her ass swaying as she walked. She went to the kitchen closing the door behind. A few.
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