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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #2024222
Not your normal lunchtime.
We sit there, talking cordially about our day. Neither one of us mentions what happened, the thing that, inside our heads, we’re really focusing on. Do you hate me for what I did? Is there a shred of love, or even begrudging loyalty still attached to your heart? But we sit there, and I ask: “Will you pass the salt?"
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