We sit on his bed and face each other, our legs criss-crossing over each other so our bellies touch. He has lived through the pain of not having a partner in his life for far too long. He is sufficiently tipsy and so am I, so he asks me to come over to his place. I have never quite figured out why a bald patch or a salt-and-pepper crop can get me going. With every love story we grow older and sadder.
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