Walking through the pharmacy drive-thru lane with a dog is reasonably suspect, especially when my name is not the same or even the same last name as on the prescription, but all acts of love are suspect. Grand gestures are transparent, it’s the off-script things we do that warrant notice. Grabbed my wife’s iPod for a thing of slight intimacy, listened to “This Year” a third time walking away with antibiotics, telling the dog to leave that remnant of a possum alone and she does, homeward down a bike path under the gray soon rain and there, that is love.
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