Since I had known her, I had never once gotten a good idea of what they looked like, even this year, when they had clearly grown a bit more. Bridget always wore sturdy, full-coverage sports bras when running, like any intelligent girl. But when she wasn't running, her favorite item of clothing was a hoodie. And when that was not on the table, she wore loose, flowy stuff, and I don't think I had ever once seen her sporting a low neckline. I had no clear idea of how her boobs looked.
But I damned sure always knew that they were there. And that all the sparsely available evidence was that they were considerable.
And all I needed was a brief, fairly minimal, though committed effort, and I would finally get to see them. She was already totally pissed off at me, she couldn't get any more mad.
