What he did remember was his quick, “Wait!” and the girl pausing between the two heavy doors. He remembered the orange sunlight coming down from the clouds and her brown eyes practically golden in the haze. This was the age when he had started noticing people. And this girl was the first who had triggered a curious feeling in his stomach and a weightlessness in his chest. Stirrings of interest, the most innocent kind that came with simple yearnings for the brush of a hand or the nudge of a shoulder. “What’s your name?” he asked, switching back to French. The girl cast a small smile over her
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