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Lump

“So tell me about your new friend?” She asked.

He was staring off into space, watching the people float about below, laughing too loudly at jokes and holding each other as the night and wine loosened all the little fears and gears that kept people pretending.

“Hmm?” he asked.

The food had been delicious. They had talked about their work and the latest terrible thing that some group of humans was doing to another. Now the dinner was done and it had been what she had been wanting and he had been patient. Worried, but patient.

“Your new friend in your no-no zone,” she said, “Tell me about him.”

“It’s probably nothing.” He said, taking a sip of water. “And even if it’s something, it’s probably pretty treatable.”

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“Treatable to treat a ball?”

He smiled.

“Have you made an appointment?”

“With who?”

“Your doctor.”

“I don’t have a doctor.”

“Well, find one!”

“I can find a ferrari but that’s not why I didn’t drive us here in one.”

“Do you not have insurance?”

He looked away.

She finished the rest of her wine in a gulp.

The waiter came with the bill and left with a card.