Saturday evening. The candles are lit, the scent of the fresh flowers. I sip my well wood-aged Chardonnay. Full of admiration I gaze at you over my wineglass. There you are, in my kitchen. Skillfull, as a former chef, "training" my new knives into submission. I can't suppress the thought of going to sit on the kitchen countertop...just like that. The execution doesn't happen....

And thankfully you don't either.


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