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Mug

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It’s tattooed across my forehead. You can’t see it. It’s in some special ink but it glows whenever he is around like the trails left by bees and ants near a tasty snack or a particularly fertile wildflower meadow. Invisible to the human eye, it sends out a clear message to him. “Come on here, she’s ripe to swallow your honeyed crap today; drop your best line and wait.” I fall for it every time.


Paragraph Planet 16.4.17

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About Hawksword

Reluctant writer, word dabbler...tea maker, coffee drinker, rum imbiber, chocolate eater.

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