The skin on her body. Skin that has withheld and has given, skin that has absorbed alcohol thrown in violence and tears wept in redemption. Cold skin. Hot skin. Clothed skin. Naked skin. And this neck—this neck that has leaned forward so she could pray over a chair, that has tilted back so she could see the heavens, that has turned to the side so she could hide from her demons, that has propelled her forward so she could kiss a girl. The legs that have carried her when she wanted to separate, that have parted when she wanted to unite. The arms that have shaken when she gripped her chair with
The skin on her body. Skin that has withheld and has given, skin that has absorbed alcohol thrown in violence and tears wept in redemption. Cold skin. Hot skin. Clothed skin. Naked skin. And this neck—this neck that has leaned forward so she could pray over a chair, that has tilted back so she could see the heavens, that has turned to the side so she could hide from her demons, that has propelled her forward so she could kiss a girl. The legs that have carried her when she wanted to separate, that have parted when she wanted to unite. The arms that have shaken when she gripped her chair with terror, that have quivered when she touched another with courage. And her hands—the hands that have white-knuckled on railings when she needed to breathe, that have folded together in chapels when she needed to pray, that have entered another when she needed to live. When she needed to love. She sees herself, and she does not look away. Early Monday morning, after she drops Joanie off for her last week of school, Hannah drives to Luke’s mom’s house. Luke sits on the front porch steps, waiting for her, a glass of water in his hand. “Hey,” he says when she walks up to sit next to him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” He brings out a crate of oranges and places it on the step below their feet. They dig their thumbnails into the oranges and peel off the skin with lazy, early-morning movements, the undersides of their nails turning a yellow-orange color. “What time do you leave?” Hannah ...
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