I remember the sound of luggage rolling across concrete as he turned. The ripple he made in time frozen on my brain, the image of his sway. I stole that parting glance and tasted the air through which he had passed, brushing against me a sweet memory. He said something, or hinted at something perhaps but only to my eyes. It was understood, the secret that can be bought between men. In the past it went unnoticed by most, but things are a bit different now. A moment cannot be held at leisure. It cannot be savored that way. The rings on his finger said leave it, but the glint in his eye begged and beckoned.
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