He bent over to your height, kissing you. He wanted to hug you too, but his hands were handcuffed in front of him. Something was attractive about it… his long hair down, his white wife-beater that cling to his chest, his baggy, orange pants and the top of his jumper around his waist. Your boyfriend wasn’t a good man, but he was your man, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. “Missed you sugar,” he says between white teeth “How you been?”