It was an awkward moment when Gil ran into Marci at the pharmacy on a cold December evening.
Their last night together - what had it been, four years, five maybe - had not ended well.
But she seemed genuinely happy to see him; and, damn, she looked good.
She looked so inviting, even eager, as she invited him to her apartment to catch up, "for old time's sake."
Gil took off his gloves, looked pointedly at the ring finger of his left hand, sighed wistfully, and said, "Thanks, but I need to get home."
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