Laughter on Western Road

X and I are walking down Western Road on a Friday night, past the pint-drinkers, past the outdoor diners, side by side, looking the pretty girls in the eye and feeling let down when they look away and pass us. We don’t want them anyway, we agree, and have to laugh at each other, laugh with all the others, laugh at everything, laugh the risus purus all down Western Road, in the soft evening breeze, all the way home, where we know a bottle is waiting for us.

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