Can’t you walk around in a sack or something? My productivity has gone out the window. (Don’t, though. I dream about your thighs, and I’d be sad if I didn’t get to see them again.) -D p.s. (addendum after our FaceTime call, scribbled frantically in the airport): you’re going to be the death of me, woman. I think it’s time to invest in the sex toy market and buy you a thousand vibrators. I reach for the final one, and it’s the shortest of the bunch. M- I miss you. Fuck, I miss you. -D “Why?” I ask, and the question hangs heavy between us. “I’ve always said I don’t date because I’m focused on
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