Singles Day.

She isn’t looking at the man with the tongs but at the guy in the mustard jacket, whom she has known for exactly one queue. He grins and orders his without.

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Everything they own is going round in two drums, side by side. He says he’s been looking for that sock everywhere.

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Both just stepped out for some air. Both already have their jackets on.

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For two minutes nobody says a word. Then she asks whether he gets off left or right.

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While unpacking, he wondered out loud whether these sleeping bags zip together. They do.

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