“So, I hooked up with this guy last week.” His forehead hikes up at my confession. “I think I turned him ... gay.” I stage-whisper, and then he smirks and rests his forehead to mine. “I missed my silly kitten. Let me buy you a coffee; you can tell me all about this queer fucker.” “How do you know he’s a fucker?” “He’s made you sad; obviously, he’s a bastard, kitten.” He grabs my hand and doesn’t let go. We get coffee and talk like our old selves.
