wo – The

e 17, two

-

mall. Rushed. My

ented for the weekend, her smile stretched too wide. There's champagne in her step, mascara smudged just

the kind of man who doesn't belong in re

ssed, eyes locked on him. He

rt

-

f high, drunk laugh that always makes me feel like a child again. The walls are th

my ears and close my ey

ugh the cracks in the walls

His hands

on

m

sheets, eyes cl

ant to name. I move slowly, blindly-chasing the echo of

e, aching in all

traint. The way he looked a

ts louder. Her

dark, I pre

er, I walk t

to the

ub myse

-

asses. T

ouse

books with precision on the living room shelves. His coffee cups appear bes

es not to

he d

t, towel-wrapped from a shower. When I lean over the kitchen counter, licking

not

r in his eyes. The p

feel dange

-

lk in wearing my mother's silk robe. It clings to

I'm not aw

ask, heading to

ice is calm, almost clipped. He

and pour it slowly into a

ay, stepping closer. "Are

lly loo

ong. His gaze drops to the edg

ck to m

ike a seventeen-y

ighteen in

ses hi

kno

etween us

his mug as if nothing is wrong-nothin

ht," he says, still not

u c

than y

h. "No

nally

is eyes are darker now. My lips p

ne rings-sha

it up. "H

mot

out of

glass of orange juice, h

il

-

n through the wall. Her moans

over my face an