Avoiding his eyes, I crossed to where my bag was and grabbed it up off the floor. “I have to go.” I started toward the door. “Oh look, Judith’s running away again.” I stopped and turned back. His eyes were hard as marbles, sparkling in the dying sunlight. “You know, if you don’t want me to go, you could just say that.” It was bravado, spoken from some senseless place I’d never even been. I imagined some alternate reality where he said don’t go, Jude, and I wouldn’t. We’d clean up and lie together on his bed and talk. Maybe about books or films or music or something else. Maybe later, we’d do
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