“I want to kiss you like a man kisses a woman,” he said, touching her arm gently.
“No,” she said, so that his hand on her arm felt like a small corpse.
“But I know that you like me.”
“Yes, more than that,” she said.
“So why?”
“Well, I am married, eight months pregnant, and, of course, your mother.”
“You’re always joking,” he said.
John's writing is always delightfully ambiguous so you have to re-read and ponder all the possible implications. What you find will be in your mind as much as his.
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