Footsteps | Shelly Blankman

They didn’t hear the footsteps, not at first. The street dark, hushed, just the steady tapping of raindrops against the asphalt. Hand in hand, they ambled toward home, one immigrant, both gay, celebrating a year of firsts, a life of forevers. So much to plan before they married. Visas, lawyers, whom to tell and when. …

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