“Part of me wants her to know—wants her to feel me out there. Watching her. Checking how she dresses. And what she eats. And who she spends her time with. Watching as she opens her bedroom curtains first thing in the morning. And walks to school. And shops for nail polish in town. I take note of some of her favorite things—like yogurt-covered pretzels, pale peach lip gloss, and hooded sweatshirts with big front pockets. And I know when she goes to bed, usually around eleven thirty, right after c...hatting online with I can only wonder who. That’s the hard part—not knowing EVERYTHING about her, despite how hard I try. Even when I’m up close, I can’t always hear what she’s saying in conversation. I can’t always watch her lips, for fear she’ll catch on, which would ruin everything. I want to talk to her. And sometimes we do talk. But it’s never for very long and we never say anything important. I can’t be myself around her. I can’t relax or open up, or show her all the pictures I’ve got tacked up on my wall: pictures of her at the beach, in front of her house, at the mall, and in the bakery downtown.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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