What about the dangerous boys ?

He said What about the dangerous boys ? their tracksuit tuck in their white socks, probably the one wearing a crocodile or a little croissant shape on their chest. Some natty from Robinot on the table, he couldn’t look straight at me, but anyway I was reading his words on his lips not in his eyes, because they were hidden behind some reddish tinted glasses. I kept saying to myself that these glasses were way too tiny for his face, but he was trying to act cool, so I might as well. He could have been 29 or 42, that was hard to decide. He said again And what about the dangerous boys ? I told him they’re in the movies, not in the streets anymore. He said Are you sure ? You sure ? He was worried I was lying to him, for an unknown reason. Yet I had no interest in lying to him about the dangerous boys, their tracksuit tuck in their white socks. No interest in lying at all actually. I raised my glass of chilled grenache to cheers! with them, the Sunday drinkers high on their stools or something else.

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