His fingers touched my hair, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. His mouth blurring my cheek and my ear. This close. I actually felt something. It wasn’t like with my boyfriend, but it was like when you want to hold onto something warm. That must be a kind of love and anyway his eyes got black and shadowy like backlanes, and I wanted to sit inside them so nobody could catch me.

The Tracey Fragments, Maureen Medved (pg. 125)
12:29 am, by cherrystrands
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tagged: The Tracey Fragments, Maureen Medved,


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