I suspect it was the coffee.

I was exuberant, a touch un-tethered. I wrote Bob a letter telling him a simple truth; that the sight of his wife’s ankles caused me to swoon. But not to the point of passing out, which of course he would have noticed, since he was standing by his wife at the time. For some reason, I thought he’d be glad to hear an honest, unfiltered confession from me; that it would draw us closer. And I meant the whole thing as a compliment to him. He had chosen her. Well done, I wanted to say. Bravo.

In the letter, I neglected to mention his ankles, which may be why I did not hear anything back.

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