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Elvis Kissed Me | The Gladdest Thing
“Elvis kissed me once,” she swears, sitting in a neon dive ordering her drinks in pairs. Two stools down you nurse a beer, sensing easy pickings here. “Back in sixty-eight,” she sighs, smoothing back her yellow hair. Teared mascara smears her eyes. Drawing near, you claim you’ve met, offer her a cigarette. “Call me cheap,”... Read more »