The pearl of her lipgloss against a perfect tan. She has a well turned heel. Impossible wasp waist. Outside her husband walks back and forth behind the lawnmower, laying down strips of sleek green. He longs, as he treads miles and goes nowhere, for endless lawns. The right balance of sun and water. A glass of gin to take away the dry thirst. He looks up, sees her at the window, and lifts his hand to wave. Every time he kisses her the colour sticks to his mouth. It tastes sweet. He licks his lips. Shadows stretch across the grass.