It's raining again, and the streets outside are streaked with reflections of sodium lamps and smears of green and red from the stoplights. Inside, it's warm, and there's wine.
"I think she unblocked me on Facebook," I say, taking another swig from my glass, "and there's all sorts of pictures from high school that she's got that I've never seen."
"Well, if she did, I'm sure it was unintentional," he replies.
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