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Yesterday in the middle of the day when we had no business doing it, Chup and I went to a movie. We just wanted to sit there in the dark and let our minds believe a story for a little while, a story that isn't our own. So we went, like old times, two in the afternoon, by ourselves.

It wasn't a big deal really, but it reminded me of the aspect of our relationship that is just him and me. The part of us that bonded before we were three, four and five in a family, way back when we used to go to matinees every week. Before the mortgages and the bills and the camping trips drained us of energy and made us think we want a million more children and no more all at once. As the film started we flipped up the armrest between us and snuggled on the top row of a mostly empty theater.

And when the movie went far too long and the babysitter was due to leave I told Chup I was going to go home and get the kids and pick him back up. I left at the apex, just as the action started to rev and the sounds of explosions manipulated a better resolve. Just as, I suppose, the world was about to be saved from certain disaster. I noticed people looking at me as I marched down the dark stairs lit by tiny white lights.

I imagine they were wondering why I was bailing after a two-hour storyline investment, but I left satisfied that I got what I came for and all would end well.

It always does.

I love him, all of them:
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