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Cross stitch for gays

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I was sitting on the couch, my feet up on the coffee table my typical crafting stance , head bent over a piece of white fabric and a flashing needle. I was wearing my reading glasses. There may or may not have been an afghan on my lap. I was cross stitching. My wife paged through the designs, giggling. Subversive messages nest in flowers or are framed by greenery.

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