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  • "don't front, we all know you're on dope"

    he sprang up in bed, searching my eyes for any knowledge of the truth.
    unfortunately there's always a little in every joke. i smiled, and we
    softened to one another. it was too late. i noticed the concave slope
    leading down his chest. this kid was a junkie, and i'd just flicked
    his off switch. he wasn't seeing my face anymore, only my outline,
    feeling my insides, hearing certain words he wanted to hear. he
    noticed my expression hadn't changed. we were gonna do this. it had
    been confirmed by silence, and probably circumstances that occurred
    before we'd met.

    he laid on my arm and told my left titty about the tether of addiction
    in his family, his weekend accomplices, flip cup contests and satanic
    rituals. we liked some of the same authors. he was amazing at chess. i met the fraternal twin
    brother with the identically sharp mouth. he was a sweet, funny
    tornado. fake vulnerable was the best he could do, and so the sex was
    off the chain. i wished i didn't know better. kinda. hated him, but
    loved his story.

    the rest of what happened is a blur. the time we spent together
    punctuated a clamorous period of change in both our lives. his father
    fought, but died of lung cancer. my grandmother lost her mind, her
    record of our history. i left school to take care of her body, he
    stayed to get his degree. three times i told him i loved him. twice we
    weren't having sex. i wrote him a postcard from france. he didn't
    return my calls, but instead stuffed me into a place he only went went
    he was completely fucked. his heart?

    eventually, things got better in both of our lives and we drifted apart. i've moved across the
    country and he's working, back in school. these days we still talk on
    the phone. the sound of his voice still makes me a little wet.
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