You: tall, lithe, stunningly beautiful, you move like poetry, an exquisite Sonnet by Keats. Long, flowing, slightly grey hair, you sometimes put it up that set off your beautiful eyes behind your glasses.
Me: dark, greying beard. Can’t take my eyes off of you. I breathe in your perfume when you walk by me.
What will it take to get your mask off so I can see your radiant smile?
Coffee? Say yes.
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