“There’s a connection between us...“ I said to Joe, seriously, while we simultaneously ogled the fresh ‘n’ tall butch meat holding hands with his buddy, smoking Petra cigs, two tables away from us at Pino’s. My brain was by then sloshing in emotional waters 5 velký pivos deep, only his was Brazilian not Roma.
“I don’t know what it is, but it’s there.”
“Seems to be,” Joe replied diplomatically. Or I thought so at . . .
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