The Turk leaned in a little more and gave the cloth another tug. His eyes sparkled in the morning light, and he bit his lip till he tasted the salty sweetness of his own blood. He twisted the taught fabric one final turn.
"Just a few drops more," he muttered "and these sheets ought to be dry on the line by lunchtime".
The Turk's attention to the laundry was laudable though perhaps pathological.