Poor her, what all she had to go through, I thought as I looked at her lovingly. Despite her tired and ruffled looks, she still looked pretty.As I was...in my thoughts, my eyes fell on the people behind her. I realized there were no women where she was standing. I felt protective and tried moving towards her. But people got irritated at my movement.“Aree, chup chap khade raho” one guy urged “kahan jagah hai jaane ko” ?Still amidst irritation of other passengers I managed to move a few feet. I was really into nicotine withdrawal. I'd left them behind to remove any temptation. A stray wisp of smoke at just the wrong time might cause a fucking concerned citizen passing by to call the fire department to report a trash dumpster on fire. World would be a much nicer place if assholes minded their own fucking business. At least I could smoke a fucking cigarette then. ARRRGGGHHH!!!Instead of smoking I inspected my glove again. No signs of any holes or cracks. It wasn't long before Rambo. His hazel eyes were glancing around the bathroom stall, a contemplative look on his face. I had an idea of what he was thinking about, and had thought about it minutes before he showed up in the bathroom. I nudged him aside, moving to wear I was standing nearly straddling the toilet (good think it looked clean) and bent over, my arms resting on the back of the tank. I glanced over at him, knowing my ass was in full view of his eyes, and wondering if this was okay. He was staring at my ass, his. The medical examiner said it didn't appear to have been inflicted by a horses hooves and he thought she had possibly fell and hit her head or maybe something spooked Jackhammer and he had knocked her against something accidentally. He wrote it up as an accidental death caused by falling and hitting her head. At least she had died while doing what she loved, taking care of her animals I thought. He was a beautiful horse. 16 hands tall and a reddish chestnut. He had a thoroughbreds build. It.
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