It was official. Two bubbles had merged in one kiss, however hurried and surreptitious it had been, a slip of the tongue, if you like. We had swapped spit in a world of spit prevention, spit management. For six months, the daily due diligence had been about keeping your spit to yourself, spit containment. Even breathing near someone - or perish the thought, at them - was a public faux pas akin to peeing in the street in daylight.
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