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(This is probably my second attempt at flash fiction, the first being <garbled in transmission> years ago during my APA/fanzine days, before I think the term had even been coined. It was prompted by a picture of a rodeo participant and his leather man boyfriend walking hand in hand, taken from behind. Just thought I'd share it and see if I'm on the right track.)
He squeezed his hand. "You brought the oils with you, right?"
"Of course. As always."
"Completely therapeutic, I'm sure."
"After watching you today, completely therapeutic."
"The doctor said I could probably finish out the rodeo cycle this year, but...I don't know."
"Come on, babe. We've already had this talk."
"It's tough, man. Giving up everything I know and love."
"Well. Not everything, I hope."
"You know what I mean, goofball."
"How's the rest of the crew taking it?"
"I haven't told them yet, but I think they suspect something's up. I'll do it tonight at the awards party. Try to go out on a high."
"Sundown's beautiful tonight."
He squeezed his hand. "Yeah. It is."
He squeezed his hand. "You brought the oils with you, right?"
"Of course. As always."
"Completely therapeutic, I'm sure."
"After watching you today, completely therapeutic."
"The doctor said I could probably finish out the rodeo cycle this year, but...I don't know."
"Come on, babe. We've already had this talk."
"It's tough, man. Giving up everything I know and love."
"Well. Not everything, I hope."
"You know what I mean, goofball."
"How's the rest of the crew taking it?"
"I haven't told them yet, but I think they suspect something's up. I'll do it tonight at the awards party. Try to go out on a high."
"Sundown's beautiful tonight."
He squeezed his hand. "Yeah. It is."