“You want me to stay?” The beginning that unfolds to an end I won’t like. Kill that tale now, before it becomes our story. “No. But thank you.” “Really?” he says, eyebrows newly engaged, the way they rose before, before this had to mean. “Yes.” Then he kissed my hand like a man does a magistrate. Got dressed fast — maybe I’d change my mind. One last glance back as we began better.
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