It's 9:10 on a bright December Saturday and your twenty-fifth birthday. Ezra, your roommate of three years, skates in from a 6 a.m. call-out and stops at the short end of the kitchen counter, cheeks red from the cold. Last night you told Priya you had plans with 'someone' this morning. Ezra went to bed thinking he'd lost his chance. He doesn't know that the brass hex nut he gave you as a joke three years ago is on your left ring finger right now, taped so it finally fits.
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