Description
We'd always go to the Library Bar and we would talk over cocktails about literature, politics, philosophy, dazzling each other with our intelligence. Afterwards we'd go to your place. I miss those evenings. The ride home was always wistful and sweet, and to this day the pink that the sky transitions through on its way to its first blue still reminds me of you.
I am 36, male, professional, educated. I wonder if you're out there. Or if someone else, drawn to this, will write.
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