Derek: It was a Thursday morning, you were wearing that ratty little “Dartmouth” T-shirt you look so good in, the one with the hole in the back of the neck. You’d just washed your hair and you smelled like some kind of… flower. I was running late for surgery. You said you were going to see me later, and you leaned to me, you put your hand on my chest and you kissed me. Soft. It was quick. Kind of like a habit. You know, like we’d do it everyday for the rest of our lives. And you went back to reading the newspaper and I went to work. That was the last time we kissed.