Choosing a lover by chance was so retro, so twenty-first century, but to hell with it. Sometimes you gotta roll the dice. By all outward appearance, she was a natural winner. Lips that could start or end wars. Hyperbolic curves that would make math majors hard. And eyes. Those fuckin' aquamarine plunge pools framed by hair like the shimmering endless blacktop alongside the diner. If I
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