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Will you meet me in the bathroom? : A Micro Love Story

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But I don't say that. I just kiss her. She holds me. Warns me that what she is about to do isn't ideal. I inhale, looking away. Half shy. Half nervous. Her eyes seek mine. She smiles when she finds them. (Artwork: Dada Khanyisa/ Stevenson)
But I don't say that. I just kiss her. She holds me. Warns me that what she is about to do isn't ideal. I inhale, looking away. Half shy. Half nervous. Her eyes seek mine. She smiles when she finds them. (Artwork: Dada Khanyisa/ Stevenson)

Small love. Big love. Skinny love. Toni Morrison’s “love is or love ain’t, thin love ain’t love at all”. Early in the morning love. Love and honour your parents love. Love at the ends of its tether. “I can’t do this anymore” love.

Here Zaza Hlalethwa considers a new love. 

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