Elizabeth, over here!" I looked, searching for the source, and when I turned I was surprised to see my friend John sitting at a table at an outdoor cafe. He was in a navy blue suit, sitting with another man I didn't know, I'm guessing at a work lunch.It has been a few months since our encounter in the shower at the cabin, although to be honest, there have been many times I've revisited that experience in my mind. Aside from the occasional like or comment on a Facebook post, I hadn't seen John or spoke with him since then. As time went by after that encounter and I had not heard from him, I just assumed he was feeling embarrassed or regretful of his actions that weekend. I chalked it up to getting lost in the moment and a one-time fling. But, truth be told, I had very mixed emotions when I didn't hear from him. Most of my feeling was of relief, so fearful that someone was going to discover what happened. However, there was also disappointment, a longing to experience those feelings. At Mackie I now dressed head to toe routinely. The worst of it were the heavy boondockers. The drill instructors wore jump boots. Boondockers were ankle-length. For wilderness use gaiters were worn over the boots to keep stuff from falling into the boot. At first, it was like strapping bricks to my feet. Eventually I managed to learn walking again. I gradually ceased stumbling and tripping over the boondockers. The hat was sweaty and I had to remember to take it off and put it on at the right times. Underwear was a jock strap and a crew-neck tee shirt. There were long drawers and a thermal undershirt, too, but I didn't wear them during the last week. The coat was welcome on chilly mornings—even though I now exercised the dogs during the afternoon.There was an everyday uniform for classes, a working uniform for fatigue details that included rubber Wellingtons, and accessories to dress up the everyday uniform. The weather was becoming too cold to go camping—even with the murderers in.
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