J.R. Tompkins

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“I think you are afraid of something else,” he told her as she settled into the seat. He looked down at her like he felt sorry for her, and she felt a chill—like there was a piece of the world she was missing. “What am I afraid of?” she asked, her mouth dry. “You are afraid,” he said, leaning down, so he was almost whispering in her ear, “of being found.”
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