“What
I know,” he says, still holding my wrist, “Is that I’ve seen every side of you.”
Really?
When
we first met I could’ve sworn the guy was blind, emotionally if not in any
other way. I’d seen him around – on campus, at the café where he worked
blending up slow-acting caffeinated poison, in the parking lot where we first
exchanged words. They weren’t nice words. He’d tapped my bumper and like that,
the damage was done. Honda on Honda, CR-V versus Insight. The goody-goody
always gets it in the end.
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