The sky white-striped, bruised shins, the hot sun, old tunes permeating the air like an amber whistle, me thirsty, my head stuffed distinctly like it is when I'm sick or sad...
Details don't matter; I am biking 3 miles to surprise him. We exchange a half-hour of horrifying tenderness. I take another route home so things will not be exactly the way they used to be.
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