I have to go,” he said softly. “But you should take a few minutes to fix your hair; it’s a real mess. And your face is all flushed.” “Maybe I’m just not practiced in these sorts of things.” For a long moment, Ash said nothing. Then he whispered, “Neither am I.” His next words were forced out like a confession. “If I was any good at it, it was only because I’ve imagined it so often.
-Erin Beaty
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