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Gazing across the lip of my coffee mug from my doorway, steam rising into the chill morning air...

I watch as he walks down my driveway. His clothing is rumpled, his hair's a mess, but that sleepy way he runs his fingers through his curly locks and the way his casual steps make his ass move in those tight jeans makes the view something I want to remember for a while. As he gets into his car at the far end of the driveway, he turns to glance back at me watching from the doorway. He grins then, and I remember how he got through my bubble of indifference. That smile. Damn. He waves, a short little movement of his hand, fingers wide, more of a salute, and then climbs into his car. There is an austere economy of motion as he closes the door, turns the ignition, hooks his seatbelt, and puts the car in reverse, looking back over his shoulder to back out instead of using the mirror. Tires crunch of gravel, something in the undercarriage squeaks, there is a click clunk sound as gears are shifted, and he's gone, leaving me

...gazing across the lip of my coffee mug from my doorway, steam rising into the chill morning air.

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