Bailey Kuskoski

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“I know. I’m not angry.” I can feel the tension leave his body. “Are you okay?” “No.” I smoosh as much of me into as much of him as I possibly can. Forehead. Cheek. Eyelid. Nose. Lips. “I feel like my heart has been torn from my chest, but if I can stay right here in the crook of your neck, it would help.”
This Summer Will Be Different
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