I looked around my room. A small, seven-mat room. Tweed gloves were popping out of the pocket of the Chesterfield coat that I’d left hanging by the door all winter. The guy I went out with in college had given them to me. We started dating soon after we met in class, then broke up over the summer the year we got jobs. I guess I didn’t really like him, and that’s why I could keep wearing them. I bet I wouldn’t even notice if he walked past me on the street or at the station. The same goes for the guys who came after him, and the temps I found placements for at my old job, and the other students
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