Opening lines
Wouldn't you know I ran into an old fella who professed he wanted to be my nicotine?
I reduce every man I have ever dated to the sum of his absurdities. Then I multiply that sum by six.
What connects us, is, some twisting cord that pumps not blood but another ironclad familiar warmth, a fragrance from my childhood that I missed without knowing I missed until he was born and I was reintrdocued to that wondermuck smell.
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