Sadie Wen is a bitch. It looks so ugly. Like a bloodstain. As I stare, my stomach sinking lower and lower, Julius moves closer and loosens the brush from my stiff fingers. Then he brings it down hard over the brick and begins scrubbing, using so much force the muscles in his shoulders flex beneath his damp shirt. Unlike his previous attempt, he erases all the marker in one go. “Done,” he says, letting his arm fall back to his side. “Simple as that.” But nothing about this moment feels simple. I open my mouth, though I’m not sure what I plan to tell him. Thanks? Please forget this ever
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