Part 1:
You are a drink for a thirsty soul.
You forgot your halo.
It’s still lying there.
Just slightly tarnished.
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Part 2:
Walking into the kitchen, where the blue cloud of cigar smoke hung heavily. Frank had his back to me. I kissed him on the top of the head and crossed the room to the sink.
As I washed my hands, I watched Frank. He had the Brasso out. The table was littered with rags, an overflowing ashtray and three beer cans.
Frank had to leave soon. I knew that. It didn’t make it any easier.
I watched his broad back shake just a little as he polished; his muscular arms straining as he applied pressure.
“Damn, it’s amazing how quickly the tarnish builds up!” Frank cursed.
Walking back to the table, I reached my hand down and touched Frank’s shoulder. He stopped his chore and looked up at me.
Those crazy green eyes of his always took my breath away.
He pulled me close, reaching up as he did so to steal a kiss. The kiss, although brief, was as electric as the first. As I pulled away, he looked at me again and said “It’s been worth every second.”
“All done?” I asked, smiling a weak smile down at him.
“Yes.” He said. “It’s as good as it’s going to to get.” He held the halo out in front of him, turning it this way and that, examining it.
Frank stood and as he did so, he plopped the halo on top of his head. Where it seemed to bounce just the tiniest bit until it came to rest about 2 inches above his scalp.
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