The whirring noise of the hoist filled the barn, Bob pulled her towards the door, she was yelling, screaming, pleading as he stepped down pulling her ...own across the seat, suddenly the two white bands of the hoist straps dropped down the side of the cab, holding her wrist with one hand he fed them through the loop and held as the hoist pulled back up dragging her up and out of the cab, her legs kicking for a footing but touching nothing.She daggled at the side of the cab, the hoist then moved. It’s always been like this but I always forget how hard it is, how much joy and pain she carries in her pockets just for me. Don’t imagine that we’re sitting in silence though, we aren’t. She’s talking and I’m hanging on every word. This is what we do. Yes, I’m hanging. That’s exactly how it feels, there’s me with a rope around my neck and she’s pushing me gently back and forth, I am swinging in the breeze of her voice. Sometimes I talk too of course, out loud, spontaneously, about something or. More

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