Your girlfriend had just returned from a trial, her outfit dirtied as usual with dust, mud, burrs, and other essences of nature.

You sat on the table top as she stood between your legs, her hands on your thighs as you carefully plucked anything you could off her outfit before washing it. As you took off a twig, her arms wrapped around your waist as she leaned her head into the crook of your neck, “You don’t have to do this, my love.” She sighed tiredly.