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December 5, 2003
The lanky length of blond Brit boy brings small ceramic pots of tea to the bistro table my friend and I occupy. When we first saw him, during the second of our three times to this tea house, we agreed that he was as much of a reason to return as the coziness of the place itself.

Today I read innuendo into nearly everything this boy says. He catches my eye often. Holds my gaze. When I pay my bill at the counter, he asks what I'm doing this weekend. I swear he asks because he wants to "do" ... me.