Morten Harket stared out of his bedroom window at the sycamore leaves gathering on the street. “What if a-ha had written a song about these leaves?” he said, half-joking. “I wonder what sort of situation I’d get myself involved in this week.”
“Would I walk by a street sweeper shouting stuff like ’7/10 for the studio version! 8/10 for the NRK version!’?” I bet I would.
“Darling?” came a voice from behind him. “Come back to bed.”
His wife lay there with just a mink coat on. “Maybe next week you’ll be able to encounter that road sweeper.”
“I know,” he said, turning towards her. “I just can’t stop…thinkin’ ’bout it.”
She smiled. “Why don’t you fill me with unease?”
And they indulged in some ever-popular adult time.