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The possibilities of love

The man drinking whisky at the bar is keeping a date, made ten years ago to the hour…

By Chris Paling   February 2005

A well-dressed man walked into a small village pub and stamped the snow from his shoes. He was watched by the landlord in his old brown cardigan, leaning on the bar counter. A log fire burned in the grate and a piano was playing in the snug next door, but the lounge was empty. Even if it hadn’t been, the landlord would have noticed the stranger. The soft grey cloth of his coat seemed to glow with a kind of radioactive wealth. The material moved in unison with his body like a second skin.

On reaching the bar, the man…

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