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Summary
Sure, Charles will never know what their office that he’s spent decades in smells like, or if this sofa would be scratchy or soft as it rubs against his bare skin. But does that matter anymore?
Edwin’s still fiddling with his zipper, and parting his mouth through a gentle sigh, and then—
Why’s he stopping?
“Charles, this is not quite what I meant when I said we should be more transparent with each other moving forward,” Edwin says, and it’s then that Charles realizes he’s phased right through him.