Some Things I've Been Meaning to Ask You 

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She pulled her hands away and leaned over me, grinning. Her cheeks were flushed as she pulled up a chair.

"So," she said, looking in my eyes. "What's for lunch?"

I showed her the gooey edge of my sandwich. "Egg and cheese."

"Can I have a bite?" I held it out for her and she took one. Sausage disappeared into his bologna on rye.

"Delicious," she said. "I'll be right back." She ran her hand playfully along my shoulders.

Sausage squinted at me. "What was that?"

"What?"

"Can I have a bite?"

"I don't–" I shook my head. "Nothing. Generosity."

He cocked his head, and pointed his thumb toward Agatha. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No," I said, shaking my head, as if I'd never thought of it.

"She ate from your sandwich."

"I guess," I said, swiping the bitten edge through a blob of ketchup. "I mean she's in some of my classes. She's nice."

Sausage shook his head. "That girl wants your junk."

"I don't know. I don't see it."

He looked over at her, waiting in line at the grill. "It's a little weird," he said.

"Weird?" I looked up at him.

"Yeah," he said. "Like pathetic."

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