Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Sizzling sausages squirt their hot sausage juices all over the bbq, the bbq moans on impact and shudders visibly. I feel as if I shouldn't be watching this very intimate encounter, but I am fascinated. I hide behind the flowery bush and peek through, stroking the pink and red flowers as I watch it all unfold. They feel good against my fingers, soft and tearable. But I don't want to tear them. Soon I will have to cough loudly and approach the BBQ so I can turn the sausages. I'll do my best not to look too much and scurry back to my voyeur spot behind the bushes.