By Laura Black

It happened again. It was one of those cloudless, light sweater days. My husband and I savored a break from the recent run of high humidity by stopping for coffee at an outdoor café on the Eastern Shore. I inhaled the aroma of freshly ground beans and wavered between cappuccino and mocha latte when our waiter appeared. He wore tight-skinned, designer denims, a black, clingy t-shirt, and a face mask that hung below his nose.

At about 6’2” with dark curly hair, he was hot. I would not have declined a peak at his pecs. But during this pandemic, how dare he expose his nose.

I don’t want to see anybody’s nose.

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1 Comment

  1. online on December 10, 2020 at 1:52 am

    Dead pent content material, Really enjoyed studying. Gaynor Waylin Richter

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