“I can’t get her out of my head,” I muttered, my eyes on fat snowflakes as they tumbled from the sky. “Every cutting word, every taunting look, even all the shit she does which isn’t aimed my way. I’m always watching her, my eyes finding her in every room, and if I can’t look directly at her, I’m stalking social media for any and every glimpse I can get. Grus posts so much that I can pretty much track her entire day if I want to. I see what she has for breakfast, who she hangs out with, how often that fucking hat kid sidles in too close, who she faces off against, who she smiles for, where she
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elysian mates
