A Different Man
At night he was a different man. If she knew him as he was in the morning, at night she hardly recognized him: a pale man, a man in a broken sweater, a man with dark eyes who kept his distance from her, who took offense, who was not reasonable. In the morning, he was a rosy king, gleaming, smooth-cheeked and smooth-chinned, fragrant with perfumed talc, coming out into the sunlight with a wide embrace in his royal red plaid robe...
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