“You good?” Anthony’s sandpaper voice has me turning to the left. I’ve noticed that he only advances on my left side when he approaches me now. I know he’s trying to give me the best chance at seeing him, and the knowledge makes me feel a little dizzy. It’s a remarkably thoughtful thing to do, and something that most people wouldn’t have considered. “I’m good.” A lie—at best, I’m fine. At worst, I’m about to spend the night sick with a migraine. “You don’t have a headache?” he asks, and then shrugs when I give him a questioning look. “You’ve been squinting more than normal, and I saw you
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