“You’re not going to show me?” I ask in astonishment. “No.” “Wait!” Reaching out, I grab his arm and try to turn him toward me. He glares down at my hand on his skin as if I’m a leech. “Why not?” “Not me. Find someone else.” “I don’t want to find someone else.” Immediately, he winces as if the sound of my voice pains him. It only enrages me more.
Girl get a grip you don’t know this man. You’ve creepily inserted yourself into his life because you became obsessed with a picture of his dead wife.
