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None of it

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When they walk, with Thomas leading the way, he tries to look straight ahead, but lowers his gaze every time.

Because the man in front of him shouldn’t be this tall.

Then they sit side by side in a dimly lit room and Thomas places hand on his knee, he tries to see it as it is, but fails every time.

Because there should be rings on his fingers.

A few times he tries to look at him, but he fails nonetheless.

Because his eyes are green with a touch of grayness in them and they should be the color of the sky.

Thomas says something and leans into him. And then his own hand is caressing his shoulders in an awkward way.

Because he wants to delve his fingers in thick long curls.

None of it is there.

Its doesn’t feel right.