He walks in with a smile on his lips and a newspaper under his arm. My eyes gleam. I lick my lips. I grab the nearest pen and lean forward expectantly.

I love crossword puzzles.

I love the competitive teamwork. I love the way my mind races, the way my pen flashes so quickly it can barely be seen, the way I lean so close to him that I can smell his skin.

I love the victory cigarette he lights for me when we're finished, satisfied smiles on both of our faces.

Do you know what they say about a man with a big vocabulary? Absolutely nothing. Do you know what I think of a man with a big vocabulary?

Do you really have to ask?

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