" I hate the way she looks at me. I fucking loathe it. Because it’s not just a gaze, it’s not mere eye contact. It’s words and phrases I don’t want to decipher. I let her go and she staggers a little, as if she’s been floating on air and her feet are finally touching the ground. It’s where she’s supposed to always be—on the ground—not in the clouds she sometimes ascends to. "
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