Both our hands are full when we notice that the paper needs to be trimmed, so I balance the heavy roll between one hand and one thigh so I can reach for the knife in my pocket. It flicks open easily despite the lint jammed into the hinge, and I trim as far as I can reach from my side.

"You're pretty handy with opening that thing one handed," he says, especially after nicking himself when taking it from me to trim his side. It was a present from him, and after a couple of months in my hands, there are already spots where my fingers have worn their mark into the finish.

"Well, we've come to an agreement. But it hasn't drawn my blood yet, so it's not really mine until it does."

13 February 2014 09:59

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