I work quickly, stuffing things back inside the broken bag. A few seconds pass when I realize Surfer Boy is just standing there, making no effort to help me. I glance up, my eyes trailing up his bare legs dusted with sand. Did he come straight from the beach? I pass over his board shorts, up his cut torso, to his face. He’s looking down, but he’s not looking at me. No, he’s looking at the thing in his hands. His expression is frozen on his face, totally unreadable. And thing is right because— Oh my fucking god. My heart drops out of my chest. Someone bury me in the earth right here in this
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