Cliff randomly laughs and squints at me. “So, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” My head jerks up. “Hmm? No.” He pops his lips. “Fair enough, then.” “That’s it?” He pushes the heel of his palm into the dough and shrugs. “Well, if you want to keep it to yourself, that’s your business. Not mine.” I open my mouth, then shut it, trying to process this new logic. This is so different from how Allen insisted I talk. Now when I tell Cliff that I don’t want to, he lets me exist in the way that makes sense for me. I don’t know how to handle that type of understanding. Ironically, it makes
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