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“Yes?” I realize after I say “yes” that I just answered to that silly nickname

“Do I set close, you hold your breath”

I purse my lips, and he shakes his head “Damn”

“No” I sigh, feeling my cheeks warm “It isn’t that It’s that I can’t find toothpaste Usually I have some in my pack, but I could only locate the toothbrush…”

He reaches into his pocket—I note the mud stains on his khakis, which badly need a wash now—and then holds his hand out

“Check it”

I frown at the square packet in his hand

“Gum”

I take it, squinting at the unfamiliar label “Eclipse”

“That work?”

“I’e over and his hand comes over mine

“Here…” He pulls out a sleeve from inside

“I knew that,” I say softly, even though I didn’t “I’ve seen one of these before A tourist left the garbage”

He pops a hite square out of the sleeve and holds it out “A token from a tourist”

I accept the thing, a bit bigger than a communion wafer, and set it in my mouth He watches with his brows up as I bite—and nearly cry out The flavor is so intense, it’s almost violent