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Canker Sores and Wedding Bells

   “How's your mouth,” my girlfriend asks.

   “It still hurts.”

   “Sure takes a long time to heal, doesn't it?”

   “Yeah, this time especially.” I’ve had a canker sore for two weeks and it’s now the size of a one-yen coin.

   “I'm always worried about your health and you diet,” she says.

   “Thank you.”

   “You know, if we lived together,


   “If, if we lived together, I'd wake up early and cook you a nice Japanese breakfast. Then I'd wake you up . . .”

   “No you wouldn't. You'd oversleep like you usually do and have no time to make breakfast.”

   “B-but . . .”

   “And because you hog the futon and grind your teeth all night long, I wouldn't be able to get more than a few short naps in during the night. My back would be so stiff and sore by the time morning came around, that only after you got out of the bed, I'd finally be able to sleep. You'd rush off to work, forgetting about me, I'd oversleep and wouldn't have time to fix myself even the simplest of breakfasts. No, if we lived together, I'd be tired and hungry. Who knows what kind of chronic illnesses I'd end up with?”



About the size of a one-pfennig coin.

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