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“You wrote that you’re tall,” she says and takes a considerable slurp of her white wine.

“I am,” he says and dangles his feet off the seat as he does when he feels put on the spot or excited. “I am the tallest among my siblings, and my mother, ugh, you should see her. Tiny, tiny.”

“Yes, about that,” she says and tries to flag down the waiter for another glass. “Your profile picture of the two of you was…uhm…interesting. It’s not often you see a mother and her grown son in that kind of embrace.”

“It’s not?” he says.


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