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He'd thought it'd all be different after.
... it would never do to carry it about in its mouth - After.and it wants its hands sometimes, No more pressing deadlines, no more frantic evasions of eye contact in the halls, no more Converseimpressions dancing on his ribs to run about with. And maybe, for a while, it had been different. He'd held something, some magic trick up his sleeve,in his hat. For a while, he'd internally nodded a morning greeting to the flag pole he'd become so intimately acquainted with. He'd tasted the wax and plastic of her lips during the one-minute window before the studious reapplication. Hasn't it got pretty pink eyes? Now that the scabs are off and the marks have faded, he knows it was really just a different kind ofsame. ... it really is very nicely dressed. He doesn't nod his morning greetings anymore and the size tens have reminded him that they're farmore an indelible experience than an indistinct memory. He tries to tell himself that he never really liked the way his tongue twitched bitterly, the chemical afterbite. He'd find it far more believable if things were different. Just shake the book a little, He could believe if it were all true.from side to side, But it isn't. So he goes back to timed scrabblings, locker doors and metal in his mouth. He doesn'tmake eye contact. Only now it's because he's afraid of who he'll see rather than what. and you'll soon see him tremble. It'd be funny if he weren't bleeding. Almost.... and she always thought it was done, It'd be funny if it weren't true.though they never really did it. |