importantly, why is Graham Black talking to you? Did he whisper something in your ear?” Violet rattles off her questions. Her suspicious green eyes scan between the two of us. I should be offended by her reaction, but I’m not. I’m too confused to be upset with her. “Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug and put the camera back up to my eye. I tell myself to point the lens anywhere else, at any other player. Through the eye of my camera, I watch Graham the entire nine innings. Something about him makes it hard to look away. Every pitch he throws seems in slow motion as if his life depends on
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