Dis "What an odd assemblage you are," I tell him, gently pushing the hair from his forehead, "and how lovely the result."

"How do you mean? I look like a bulldog."

He must have been told this before, because I don't think the words are his own. "Well look at this forehead," I start.

"It's huge."

"This big, bollum forehead, it's big and round, and your head..."

"I have a huge head."

"Your head is big, yes. And these ears..."

"I've got attached earlobes."

"Attached, yeah, and the tops are all pointy like Spock ears, or elf ears or something. And you've got this big ol' nose..."

"My nose is big?"

"Huge. Just like I like it."

"You like big noses?" His eyes widen and he seems pleased.

"I love them. Love them to death. Yours is lovely. All the odd parts come together and make you the most beautiful, most exquisite thing..." I pause, and hear my own words. "I should stop. You don't need to hear this."

I kiss his face and eyes and lips. He is, without question, the most precious and perfect and lovely creature I've ever held in my hands. He knows he's beautiful, he's got constant affirmation from other than the likes of me, but if for one fleeting moment he could see himself through MY eyes? Holy shit, he'd be speechless.

I wear my affection for him like a tag in my clothing; unseen and hard-edged, it scratches at my neck and makes its presence known in an annoyance slightly painful. I'd rip it out if it didn't seem so important.

Suffice to say, I hate him for it. A person so innately unattainable should not be so intrinsically irresistable.
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