You go to a party wearing stripes. The person who opens the door is also wearing stripes. Their stripes are dark and yours are light but the color scheme is the same. A mutual friend points this out while introducing you to the other striped shirt. You brush the coincidence off as you fix yourself a gin and tonic. When you come back from the bathroom you can't find your drink. Your eyes scan the room, someone else is sipping your ice cold gin. Your glass was the one garnished with a double set of lime wedges. Before you can chastise the gin stealing, striped shirt wearing, green eyed blonde you notice that your drink is sitting near the edge of the coffee table, right where you left it.

Games are the next item on the agenda. Two rounds into Pictionary you become clairvoyant. People on the other team accuse you of cheating. You agree to switch teams but it's as if you know what the other striped shirt will be drawing as soon as pen and paper connect. You leave to take a phone call, when you return someone else is sitting in your seat. The next game is charades. Your best friend's husband gives you the word blowjob. Less than three seconds pass before the other striped shirt stands up. Only your ears hear the slick of leather sliding through belt loops. Untucking someone else's stripes is almost as fun as feeling everyone else's eyes focus in on you. Chivalrously the other striped shirt helps you up from your knees.

Your hostess gives you a funny look when you tell her you need to get going. In her bedroom your things fall out of your bag. Another hand holds up the shirt you wore to work. A second cobalt blue dress shirt comes out of someone else's black leather bag. Fortunately you remember there's an exit route via the bathroom off the master bedroom. Halfway to your car you're wishing you were wearing your coat instead of carrying it. Earlier you would have sworn that you were the last person to pull into the driveway. Anger builds as you realize you're going to have to go back to the party because another car stands between you and freedom. Your back is to the driveway. Your front is facing another set of stripes.

Despite the frozen air you're no longer cold. Before you were eager to leave. Now you realize how foolish you look standing outside in a thin cotton shirt. Inside the car your vaporized breath condenses on the windows. Neither of you has said anything since you left the party together. Because you're connected the silence doesn't seem awkward. Later you try buttoning your shirts together and laugh when it doesn't work. In the bathroom you notice the towels are striped. The stripes are different than the ones you have at home but the colors are complimentary. Your mouth tingles from the peppermint flavored toothpaste. The last of the dental floss slides between your teeth. You leave your travel pack of floss in the cabinet next to the economy pack of replacement toothbrush heads.

Sleeping together feels so right you can hardly believe you met this person less than six hours ago. Your limbs twine as you yawn and shiver together. The alarm clock on the nightstand is the one you considered buying the last time you were at the store. The conversation drifts to the party. You talk about your mutual acquaintances. Your de-striped companion works for the same company you left eight months ago. You hated working there almost as much as he does. The connection is there. It's unmistakable, elemental and nothing short of amazing. Have you experienced a body blending soul merging connection with another set of stripes? I didn't think so.

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