Rachel drove her middle finger into the walnut whip,
making lorry noises. She said beep beep
as it reversed out, all mallowy and wet.
'Excuse me, Lionel?'
Lionel looked up from across the battleship grey partition,
a red line across the bridge of his pendulous nose.
'Remember how you suggested I could go on sponsored diet?'
She thrust the finger in his direction
then plunged it into her gob.
This was particularly thoughtless, however,
as Lionel was suffering from depression.
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