“Look at them. If they even knew what goes on in the basements of stores closed for the night, or the stairwells of parking garages, or in the privacy of many respectable estates, they would have to look at the world differently, have to consider their lives of network TV, dinner buffets, trips to the mall, and weekend outings at the lake… quaint, banal… boring.” He shook his head in sad disappointment with the world.”

“And if they knew about us, they’d have to kill us.”

A couple passed down the alley. Linked at the hip. His hand in her back pocket. Her thumb hooked into the waist of his jeans.

“C’mere,” she breathed. The way her breath came over her lips, the touch of it just below his lobe, and he stepped back into the shadows, feeling her hands curl into the small of his back.

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