![]() ![]() In the ensuing weeks, I subsisted on crumbs: listening to him talk about his favorite books, ones I hated but assumed I just wasn’t cultured enough to understand examining the meditative photos he took of the city’s rare natural landscapes and posted on Instagram gushing about him to anyone who would listen and watching the disinterest build up in their eyes like cataracts. There was something in the shape of his bearded jaw, its almost leporine nature, that stopped me. I was at work, on my way to the bathroom, when I saw him hunched over a computer a few cubicles down. The first time I saw him- truly saw him-came weeks before that night in the apartment. I was buzzed from one beer, a worrying feat, and my suspicion was that the smell of him changed my brain chemistry. ![]() ![]() He sat across from me at that tiny table, in that tiny apartment, gesticulating and performing for others, and how I wished it would all fade away, every pixel in the scene blank except for him and me. ![]()
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